


The Drunken Therapist

by Grain_Crain



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grain_Crain/pseuds/Grain_Crain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is from my own head cannon where Demo is a really good drinking buddy to all of his teammates, considering how he is open and always drunk. The others think that he can't remember anything and began to vent out their problems, but does he really forget what he hear when his head is full of rum and beer? We will see about that ;)<br/>[Engie/Soldier, Spy/Sniper, Heavy/Medic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am open to any reviews, criticisms and advice. Any sort of comments would be much appreciated :D

Throughout his teen years, there were two kinds of cylinder bottles that Tavish Finnegan DeGroot never let go. Beer bottle and jar of potassium chlorate had been his best friends and he knew he had problems. People took him as a crazy alcoholic bugger who can't even remember anything about his life back in Ullapool, but oh he sure did. He remembered good amount of detail in his life, such as the scandal between the headmaster of his orphanage and the nun from the nearby chapel, and the gossips that his peers told him whenever they got drunk. Although he never interfered with whatever he heard, people kept unload their shenanigans on him. Maybe they felt safe that he wouldn't rat them out. Maybe he looked trustworthy, or he happened to have pair of ears and a mouth to give them an honest drunk responses.

He pretended not to remember because it would be too much of a bother to get involved in every single of those shit stirring events. However, it was highly entertaining to know every little thing about the folks around him. To a young adolescent boy who lived in an orphanage, this made him feel less of a loner and sort of popular. The façade did not last long anyway because people began to avoid him after he lost his eyeball and blew up the school hall. He could not careless anyway. It was tiring to hear the slurred repertoire of "…you can't tell this to anyone" on every Friday, and his real parents came for him anyway.

When he first met the mercenaries at Teufort, he was relieved to see bunch of males. They seemed like they don't give rat's ass about each other's' business, and stay professional and friendly like manly man they all are. Well, except that noisy bugger Scout who never shuts his trap even for a minute. Demoman eventually gained basic respect from his teammates despite of them throwing drunkard jokes at him. He laughed with them anyway because they were not so perfect either. On one Friday after their biggest triumph, him and Soldier got insanely drunk and decided to drag the whole team into their little alcoholic pit hole.

"Aye boyos! Why doon't all o' ye come doon and have a drink?"  
Demoman dashed up the stairs and chimed at his teammates in the living room. Pyro didn't seem to hear the two at all because he was watching the precious flames at fireplace, feeding it dry woods as if he was looking after a pet. Engie was reluctant at first to leave the blueprints that he was working on, but the smell of alcohol that he hasn't tasted in a while was tempting him.

"I don't know, partner. Preparations for the next battle ain't gonna write itself."  
"Ach, cummoan. You are a cannie lad who can come up with anything. Int it better for ye heid to loosen up sometimes?"  
His strong and dark arm was wrapped around Texan's shoulder to support his persuasion and swinging body. Engie noticed another tough and firm arm wrapping around his other shoulder.

"Correct. The drunkard is speaking the truth for this once. A proper soldier must learn to acknowledge their success and celebrate the amount enemies' bloody he shed."  
Soldier was not leaning on Engie as much as Demoman, but his breath and skin were already hot from the dancing juice. Feeling slightly weird that he is surrounded by two bulky men and the fact that Soldier was more physically intimate than usual, Engie blushed slightly and chuckled.

"Aight, ah will join you if y'all can stand on your own. Are you coming, Pyro?"  
Engie squeezed out of the two and grabbed his guitar that was resting on the couch. Pyro wasn't paying much attention to the commotion until his code name was called. He stared at the three men blankly as if he couldn't comprehend any words before 'pyro', then he suddenly jumped up to give them a squeezing hug and jumped down the stairs. Soldier curtly nodded in pride with their success and walked away to find other people to invite.

"Slow doon, ye prancer. Ther's enough for all o' us tae drink."  
Demo boomed with laughter as he headed to the door to basement, still using Engie to hold himself. Engie didn't mind helping out his teammate, but Lordy Lord, he could get drunk from Demo's breathe fuming with alcohol.

Despite of his calm and sober looking exterior, Soldier was feeling a bit lightheaded when he was walking down the corridor. He looked at the doors that led to his teammates' individual rooms and wondered why and how he was up here in the first place. Scratching his head, he tried to regain the missing piece of memory that made him walk all the way up here, but failed to do so. The grumbling stomach directed him to visit the kitchen, where Heavy was reading a thick Russian book with running microwave that had his late night snack on. The sight of skinhead jolted Soldier's memory and he gave his teammate an overly exaggerated rigid salute.

"Greetings, Russian. You have done exceptionally well in today's battle."  
"Soldier is kind. Are you BLU spy?"  
Heavy quivered his eyebrows, smiled and didn't divert his eyes away from the book. It was a light hearted joke that came out of his absent mind, which he soon regretted. That last comment made Soldier stand up straighter and stretched out his red uniform to emphasise his identity. By the sound of that low growl, Soldier was not going to leave Heavy alone with his favourite book.

"Nonsense, you commie maggot! It is a leader's duty to use carrot and whip method. This is not all the kindness I grant upon you – you shall join us for a proper celebration. I ORDER YOU TO LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU! Put that book away and attend to the drinking at the basement. I strongly recommend you to bring your vod-"  
"Vodka? Booze? Oh sweet!"  
Both men whipped their head toward the new voice in the kitchen. Being a young adult with fast metabolism, Scout came down from his room to attack the fridge. What he heard right now was way better than cold lasagna.

"Is not place for Baby Scout."  
"Private, you are not legal yet."  
Those words could not flatten Scout's desire to drink and become a real adult. He was the baby of the family, so no one actually took him to a bar or club before he moved into Teufort. He was eager to be cool like his brothers and this was the chance.

"Aw come on! I am practically an adult. 21! Wait… Hey! How old do you think I am?"  
"A proper identification is required."  
"Don't be a dick. I've earned this drink as much as the fat guy over there. Bet you didn't see me whacking all those bozos because I am too fast for your eyes. Unlike lard face, I captured most of those points!"  
"Leetle Scout better watch his mouth."  
Heavy took his glasses off, put his book down with loud thump and stood up. His shadows loomed over Soldier and Scout against the dim kitchen light like a hungry bear. Scout ignored the impending threat and kept whining at Soldier.

"You GOT to let me in. I will do anything!"  
"Scout better take his word back."  
"Whoa hey, don't come near me!"  
Soldier humped at the desperate tone and eyed at the microwave that emitted delicious smell of meat. Another rumble was felt under his rock hard abdominal muscles and he was starting to feel less drunk. Eager to get back to the basement, Soldier ignored the cat and mouse chase, took out Heavy's food from microwave and stood by the doorstep to watch the silly sight.

"I shall allow you to join us if you make yourself useful and gather the others. This should be easy enough for you, scrawny maggot."  
Scout shot a quick glare at the disappearing army boots. The gigantic hands that were busy to catch him were slow enough to dodge and think about who he can bring to impress Soldier.

"This is getting boring. See ya later at the basement, baldy."  
Scout jumped, kicked against the wall to place his hands on Heavy's bare head and vaulted over him. Heavy spun around to at least catch the skinny leg, but something caught his eyes. The paper bag that had his minced pie wasn't in the microwave and there was no way that Scout could be that fast to steal it unnoticed.

Sense of defeat crawled into his heart which was soon replaced with mild annoyance. This was no place for him to nurture his sophisticated side and read in peace. The pie didn't matter so much, but his mood read was foiled after being so riled up by these little Americans. Maybe he should join their foolish drinking where everybody was lightweight than he was, but being the only one to get drunk slower than everybody else had limited fun. He should bring someone who was as heavy as Heavy, and the only person he could think of was Medic, his dear doctor.

"Do you not zink zhis is… excessive?"  
Medic crinkled his nose when the fume of beer wafted in the air. He followed the big man because he was so insistent on being familiar with the group, but seeing his fellow comrades sitting in a circle around boxes of alcohol and empty bottles on the floor did not appeal to the German at all.

"Doc, join in for a song."  
Engie shot a beam of smile as he plucked the guitar. The rhythm was unsteady due to Soldier's violent rocking against the bottom Engie's guitar and shoulder, and the beautiful tunes were muted by Soldier's singing of national anthem of America. Singing would be an over judgement for Soldier because the stocky man was horribly tone deaf. Rolling his eyes, Medic was about to turn away but Pyro's arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the ground. Medic flailed as hard as he could but the grip only hardened when they sat down together on the floor.

"Dummkopf! Let me go at once."  
"Mmmdic mmmst mmmmink."  
Heavy was jealous of Pyro's boldness because it would be inappropriate for him to hold Medic without hurting the man's dignity. Heavy sat beside Medic, slightly worried that he may have made the doctor mad.

"Release the Hoegaarden, lad. I wouldnae wanta force it on him like his national leader did."  
Demo winked at Medic and lifted his arm as if he had a stiff joint on his wrist and elbow.

"First of all, I am not a Nazi and Hoegaarden is a Belgium beer! How is zis any relevant?"  
"Thought ye a feather weight."  
"Vhy do you assume zat?"  
"'Cause ye're afreid tae drink something that's like water tae ye?"  
Medic's scoffed. This blackman just insulted his ability to hold alcohol down and his country. He could also hear Soldier mumbling about how blind and cowardly the Germans were to follow such tyrant. It would be gutless of Medic to back down right now. He needed to show these buffoons that it is him who keeps them alive out on the battle field and teach them a history lesson of his nation.

"Ja. Of course beer is merely but vater."  
Now that his body was free from Pyro, Medic reached out to Heavy's vodka and took two large gulps. Heavy was so startled that he spat out bit of beer that he was sipping. Nobody expected such sight.

"Zis, hovever, is a real drink."  
Pyro's giddy claps made the other men roar in approval. Heavy shook his head as his precious homebrew was quickly flowed out like it was nothing. Demoman smirked in glee and Heavy frowned as he chugged on the beers to catch up on Medic and the others.

Sniper was the last to 'join'. Technically, Scout made the Australian to shake his skinny legs to the basement by stealing his hat. Sniper was going to leave as soon as he snatched his hat off from the young Bostonian, but Soldier blocked the path and ranted the duties as a team and how they must stick together.

"Step aside, wanka. I left the van open because that brat didn't give me a time to close it properly."  
Sniper stepped back to make a distance to charge against Soldier. The helmet man was drunk enough to wobble away if Sniper gave him a hard push. He was so sure that there was nothing behind his feet, but something made him trip and fall on his back. Out of all the people, Sniper collapsed on rather pink-looking Heavy.

"Da, it's feeding time for kangaroo man."  
"Release me, you cunt!"  
Heavy's voice boomed in joy and ecstasy when alcohol began to seep into his veins. He felt like cuddling one specific person, but tried to avoid that by hugging anyone he can grab as some sort of excuse. Like a mother feeding a baby, Heavy shoved beer bottle on Sniper's mouth.

"Alright fine. Fine! Let me drink on my own!"  
It took three bottles till Sniper was allowed to sit on the floor.

No one cared that Scout was amongst them at this point, and also how the beer bottle was floating on corner of the wall. That was the first time Demoman saw the deepest inner side of these killing machines, and possibly the glimpse of social web that represented who favours who more than the others. This group drinking did not happen as frequently as they thought it would. There was hardly anytime where all the mercenaries simultaneously gathered to have another because some of them had other priorities, and not everyone was an avid drinker like Demo. He was the only constant who kept drinking in the basement every night, alone or not. One of two of other mercenaries frequently visited him to wash their tensions away after a hard day battles. The first night that was different from his usual beer night at Teufort begun with Soldier, who drank with him the most so far.

The man of discipline and hard works was quiet as a dead bird this time while they shared beer. It unnerved Demo.

"Did ye see that bastart BLU Heavy stepping on me mines? He always explodes like raw haggis."

"I moost try this new formulae for tha next battle. Sometimes bombs are less bouncey when I be throowin' them aroond."

Demo would usually just keep on talking, but Soldier being like a gargoyle was not comfortable at all. He stopped talking to observe his mute comrade. Soldier's eyes were hidden under that heavy helmet, but Demo could see the tiny gaps that kept open and shut on his friend's lips.

"Spit it oout. Whattis it?"  
"What is your…"  
The rest of sentence sort of faded out which made Demo hard to follow and lose his patience.

"For the love of me deaf Uncle Angus, speak oup!"  
"What is your opinion on homosexual conducts?"


	2. Chapter 2

Whooooooooooop sorry for the delay. It was hard to think this through. The story is getting longer than I expected, but I don't like publishing quick works without any proper development in characters and storyline XP

Don't worry – the other ships are slowly coming up as well :)  
Bear with me and please suggest or critique on any flaws I have made.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The man didn't stutter and Demo heard him as clear as day. Never in Demo's wildest dreams had the traditional and seemingly conservative American talks about such topic, which made this situation very strange.

"I dunnae. What's it tae ye?"  
"Answer my question."  
Soldier growled in low tone. Demo was about to give him another response of indifference but the way Soldier's body shifted made him reconsider. Was this brick of a man nervous? It was hard to give him responses on a subject that Demo haven't give much thought about. Partly because he wasn't gay and he didn't know any gay guys amongst his old social peers. He was aware of the generic images that Telly showed at times and how the late-night media portrayed them. The colour didn't show on black and white, but the intensity of frills and sissy body language seemed quite out of place to him.  
"Well, they look ridiculous…"  
Soldier's knuckles turned white from clenching the bottle hard.

"…but Telly makes everything look like clowns. I doon't care whether a bloke wantae grab a knob or poke a keyhole on doors, as long as he dooesn't piss me off, I suppoose he is fine."  
Demoman missed the tiny sigh of relief from his friend. He reached out for another new bottle from the box and scowled at the sound of empty clinks. Demo closed his eye, leaned back on the sofa and waited for Soldier to say something. He opened his eye when he felt another shift on the cushion. Soldier was facing straight at Demo as if he still hasn't heard a satisfying answer.

"I asked you about what they do, not about them."  
"What? Like foocking?"  
The Soldier clenched his teeth at the word and curtly nodded. This conversation was getting too weird.

"Don't you think it's degrading?"  
Demo squinted at Soldier and his questions.  
"…the foock you on aboot?"  
"JUST ANSWER ME, DAMNIT!"  
Gears were sloppily turning in Scotman's brain. He felt like he was getting something out of this conversation and he did what he does the best – mocking.

"Och, I think it's darn right gaggin – I mean disgustain. Makes me wantae boak to hear two blokes gruntin' it oout like pigs. I reckon they aren't even real men."  
Demo flailed his arms around dramatically and stuck his tongue out. He expected some sort of reaction to make Soldier spit out the real topic of this conversation, and it worked perfectly. He actually felt a bit nauseous when Soldier grabbed his shirt and shook him violently.

"I AM MORE OF A MAN THAT YOU SORRY SKIRTSMAN WILL EVER BE!"  
"IT'S SCOTSMAN! Then what are ye worried aboot? Go and foock him right now."  
Soldier gasped and instantly let go of the stretched fabric. Demo stroked his face to soothe the headache and pushed himself back a little from Soldier.

"We both know ye are the manliest bloke aroound here. You can fook a man if ye want. It dooesn't matter what others think as long as ye hold yer heid high."  
"What do you skirt-twirling drunk know about being a man?"  
"For the LAST TIME, it's kilt you bloody baheid. Aye, I wear 'skirt' and I am proud of it. It's my culture and makes me who I am. I doon't give a shite aboout what ye sorry shiteheads think of it, and neither should ye aboout yer love fer cocks."  
Soldier winced when Demo blatantly exposed what ruined his ideal image of manliness. Deep crevice was hidden under his hard helmet as he fought the urge to shout again.

"Negatory. I do not gawk at any males or females that come across my vision. Battlefield is not a place for silly peeping."  
"Who do ye wantae fook among us, then? Dooes he hate gay men?"  
Demo thought he had a conversation flowing, but silence crept back in between them when Soldier hesitated to answer. Demoman pried no further because he didn't want to get involved and one more shake would really make him vomit.  
"That is none of your business. If you have time to put your big nose on other people's business, you shall retire and attend the drill at 0600 SHARP. Doubt you will remember it, so I will kindly shove the microphone INTO YOUR SKULL, cupcake."  
Soldier bolted up right before Demo could say anything. The bazooka man swayed a little because of his own sudden action, but managed to perfectly march up the stairs. Demo let his body loose and he drifted into sleep on the spot.

The wooden floor creaked in continuous beats as Soldier fiddled his leg while sitting on his bed. He tried his best to contemplate on what Demoman had said. Having a sexual interest on males was against his upbringing, and the fact that it was his colleague breached his idea of a professional mercenary. This was one of those unusual moments where he felt something strong that wasn't a bloodthirsty rage. Being, or at least feeling gay for a person was never the strong and tough man image that he had built. If Demo agreed with the homophobia that Soldier's parents and society imposed on him, he would have tried to suppress the urges and build harder wall around that soft flutter. However, Demo wasn't judgemental. Soldier didn't expect such neutral answer from the rugged Scotsman and asked for more comfort as if he needed some sort of permission.

A pang of anxiety tugged in his heart as he imagined the worst case scenario. What if everybody found out his dirty desires and his crush was a homophobe? He remembered Demo's pride in his skirt-culture and gained some courage, but it was useless if his Texan technician didn't like men. He also wondered if Demo was going to remember their conversation the next morning, but doubted it. The alcoholic made himself a fool numerous times on the battle field because he forgot to do anything. No man on Soldier's dictionary would do that on purpose. What he could do now was to make himself feel more comfortable in being gay. If anybody like Demoman could be shameless with such ridiculous tradition, Soldier could damn well embrace his identity crisis. Anybody who opposed him can taste his lead and fist, but the world doesn't have to know this yet. Ignoring the flickering worries of having his homosexuality exposed, he flopped on his back to catch some sleep.

 

 

The sun harshly beamed at the tiny flesh beings on the beach. There were hot babes everywhere with bright red bikini, and sand was warm and soft. A sexy brunette held her arms around his shoulder and brought her lips close to his ears.

"…got."  
"That's right. Tell me what you want, sweet cheeks."  
The low and velvety voice dripped on his ear drum, but he was more focused on the two lumps of milkshake close to his chest. He was about to run his hands down on her back, but then her grip hardened and became rough.

"WAKE UP, MAGGOT!"  
Instead of a female's voice, the brunette coughed up the annoying rumble he heard ever since he arrived in Teufort. The excruciating pain of his hair being pulled woke Scout up from the best dream he ever had. Having top torso of your weight hanging on your scalp was refreshing enough to chase away any traces of drowsiness.

"OW OW OW FUCK LET ME GO!"  
"Much obliged. You have five minutes to get your skinny ass up."  
Soldier released Scout and shook his hand. Tiny dark brown strands of hair floated around. The room was dimly lit with orange sunrise and dusts were dancing from his bed due to the short struggle he had.

"It's Saturday, goddamn it."  
"Better giddy up, boy. You know what's better for ya."  
Scout glanced at soft chuckle outside of the door frame. It took him a millisecond to realise that the man smiling down at him was team's engineer who looked too unfamiliar without his hardhat and goggles. Scout scratched his hair to ebb away the stings and walked down the corridor with the older man.

"I mean, it's unfair. Did he really have to pull my hair to wake me up?"  
"Well, he did call ya out few times but you kept mumblin' in your la-la-land."  
"No, but you don't understand…"  
Scout described the dream he had with every ounce of exaggeration. He also added that it's his daily life back in Boston and Engineer nodded to let the boy ramble on.

"I jus' don't know why he is being such a freak. Does he do this to you too?"  
"No, because ah got no hair to hold on."  
"Not that, jeez. You know what I mean."  
"It's just you, son."  
Engineer shook his head in slight amusement and let Scout mumble further. He knew that Soldier's behaviour was different around Scout, but he figured that was how Soldier's parents treated him as a child. In a way, it was Soldier's expression of caring for younger 'subordinates'. There was another individual that Soldier acted differently, and it was Engie himself. It was very subtle, but the smart Texan knew there was something more than just a mutual respect for one another. Of course, Soldier yelled at everybody in the battle or during ceasefire, including Engie. What Engie observed were Soldier's actions.  
The hints that Engie noticed were small things like seeing Soldier almost everywhere as if the helmet man was his background music. Soldier polished his rocket launcher in the lounge where Engineer drew his blueprints. Engie found crates of scrape metals from last battles in front of his workbench and wondered who did such generous act for him. If Sniper didn't complain at the breakfast about how Soldier kept woke him up with thumping noises of heavy objects, Engie would have thought it was Pyro. Almost whenever Engie went out to town for supplies, Soldier tagged along to come but only if they were with the others. At first, he thought it was about being best American buddies. Soldier always emphasised on being a patriot and half of their conversations were American affairs. However, Engie scribbled that idea out because there were incidents where Soldier acted awkward around when they had shower time. Engie didn't mind, really. The taller man's toned body was an eye candy to him and he secretly loved the attention he was getting. Well, there was something more than that but he decided not to think too much before exercises. Soldier was particularly adorable this morning when he gently knocked on Engie's door while punched down the others'.  


"No way. I'm not gonna do it. He can't make me his dog."  
"Ya know, I was goin' to lay two or more strips o' bacon if you trained extra hardy this morning."  
Scout loved Engie's cooking and almost forgot it was today where everybody can taste the greasy Texan meals. It was one of Soldier's many team-building ideas where all the mercenaries take a turn to cook for the day. So far, the Conagher family's recipe book received the most love.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?! Come on, then. We are going to be late!"  
Engie smiled at the sight of Scout running out to the field. Young and simple minds were so easy to handle, just like driving his first tractor back in his parents farm. As he stepped out of the building, he could see everyone's sluggish posture. Spy's presence, however, was rare and this raised few eyebrows.

"Finally decided to put some meat on your buttery bones, Spook?"  
"My physique can't be worse than you, monsieur autruche." [autruche=ostrich]  
"Speak English, wanka."  
Sniper and Spy were at their usual competition of snide comments. In Engie's opinion, both of them were lanky to even compare, which made them sound childish for two grown men.

"What did Soldier do to bring you out of your parasol?"  
"That is none of your business."  
Laundry machines and soaps. Those were the blackmail that Spy, the master of manipulation, hadn't even thought about. Who knew Soldier would actually think of blowing up the machines and hide soaps? The others could go about three days with dirty clothes, but not Spy. Unlike these unruly barbarians, Spy considered himself as a proper gentleman who took care of his personal hygiene. If he could not wash his balaclava every day, that would risk his code as a professional spy. He could not bring himself to ask the others for soaps because that would hurt his pride.

 

 

The liveliness of Teufort intensified as soon as they finished the training. The morning training left them fatigued. Other than the few quiet characters, all of them became bunch of animals fighting for bacon and scrambled eggs. Medic and Spy sat on the lounge to avoid food flying onto their faces.

"Pipe down, fellas! There's plenty to go around."  
Engie handed down another bowl of cooled bacon strips. Before Heavy could grab a big handful with his bare-bear hand, Engie put three strips on Scout's plate as he promised. While everybody was busy on their chow, Soldier shoved two sunny side-ups on Demo's plate and curtly nodded.

"Hangover is a sorry excuse for a man."  
Soldier replied to Demo's quizzical eyebrow raise. Demo wondered whether Soldier was bribing him to keep their conversation quiet from last night, or just being a good friend. He decided not to care because he was hungry and indeed hungover.

"Monsieur Soldier?"  
"Fine. This is not over yet, you slimy French."  
Spy nudged Soldier to retrieve the promised share of soaps. He smiled at Soldier's comment and made a mental note to buy some more on their next trip to town. There was no way that Soldier could use the same trick again if Spy was well prepared. Unfortunately, their immature youngster took this scene to make a horrible joke.

"Aw jeez. Can't you two fags exchange soaps in showers?"  
Soldier zoomed across the table and knocked out Pyro's plate. He was fast and his helmet fell off as it hit against the unlit kitchen light. Demo smirked at first when the bulkier man punched that pretty nose, but the new found discovery of Soldier being an anxious-closet gay alarmed him. He saw that the look of uncontrollable fury on Soldier's eyes and they bore genuine intention of murder. He didn't care if his cover as an oblivious drunk might be blown, but at this rate Scout might get more than a broken nose. Thankfully, Heavy interjected by pulling Solider off from the table and made the situation less serious. Scout fell backward and his legs flopped like cotton-wool doll.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"  
Scout stood up and droplets of bloody split out as he shouted. He didn't bother to cover his nose because Soldier's abusiveness was getting on his nerves. Not even his brothers were this rough on him.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING FAGGOT, YOU SPINELESS MAGGOT?"  
"It was a joke! Come on man! Or-"  
Scout's accusation of asking whether 'Soldier is gay or not' ran short when his mouth was covered by Spy's hand. Scout jolted up in pain because everywhere hurt around his nose.

"Let's not make this place uglier than it already is, gentlemen. Boys will be boys, non? I am sure he learned his lesson and won't use provocative words in the future, unless he is calling other people 'fags' to hide his own identity. We all understand, mon petite fleur."  
Spy's words slithered around his teammates and calmed the mood down. Demo was the first to laugh at Spy's mocking sympathy, and Heavy followed to fill the kitchen with loud chortle. Pyro lifted his sad head up from staring at his food on the floor and slapped Engie's back in hilarity. Sniper was about to laugh along but the wink that Spy gave him stopped his breath for few seconds.

What was that about? Why the wink after the little 'I support gays' speech?

"Be thankful that I let my glove get dirty with your blood to save you. Who knows what that helmet beast will break when he is mad?" "Oi, spook. Wait!"  
Before he cloaked himself, Spy whispered to Scout and smacked the back of younger man's head. He had enough to worry about ripped washing machines and some foul mouthed twat wasn't going to ruin his hard earned session of cleaning.  


"Vhat is all zhis?"  
"Doktor. Check baby flower."  
Medic came back in the kitchen to leave his empty mug. Heavy whispered the whole situation in Medic's ear. Scout rolled his eyes and starting to feel a bit blue.

"I see. Vell, the red lipstick certainly looks good on you, Herr Scout, but I am not sure vhezher you should put it all zhe way up your nose."  
Scout dreaded to see a smirk on Medic and the following remark shamed him further. He just wanted to get out of this place and be alone for rest of the day, or rest of his life.

"Don't forget to visit me at zhe infirmary!"  
Medic shouted as Scout sprinted out of the building. The ubercharge pair walked back to the laboratory because Medic was so sure that he finally have constructed a better charger-device to plant on Heavy's heart. Sniper was already gone to chase Spy and interrogate about that weird wink, and Demo slipped out because there was no way that he could do dishes. Engie sighed at the mess and picked up broken shards of porcelain.  


"Mmmgie, mmmeres mmmroom."  
"Ah appreciate it, Py."  
Engie grinned warmly at Pyro. The crazy guy was unpredictable, but also kind and pure minded like a child. Both of them didn't notice Soldier stood alone in the corner of the kitchen. Was it to cool himself off? Or was he thinking of something that was beyond his brain capacity? Eventually Engie saw the lying helmet on the floor and realised the owner was still in the same room with them.

"Don't forget your helmet."  
Soldier gazed at the shiny dome of olive brown but didn't take it. Engie could see that something was troubling him and he wanted to tread upon it with utmost care.  


"Solly, would you like to have a talk?"  
"Negatory, private."  
Engie didn't like the cold and military tone one bit. Why was Soldier being distant all of sudden?

"What you did to that boy wasn't sensible."  
"The maggot deserved it."  
This conversation was getting nowhere. Engie knew that Scout did cross the line, but violence amongst teammates harms the team in so many ways. It was obvious to Engie that Soldier was trying to blame someone else to vent out his discomfort.

"Come on, partner. You are-"  
"WHO IS YOUR PARTNER?!"  
The moment Engie's gloveless hand touched Soldier's shoulder; the latter man smacked away the contact. Pyro gasped, clenched the broom on his hand and felt the tiny vibration in the room that harsh bark made. Both men kept their ground. There faces were emotionless as if this was a fight to show who can be stoic the best. Two pairs of hands were clenched in fists, but neither of them were going to use them on each other. Soldier usually admired those icy blue eyes exuding intellectual charm, but now they were piercing through him. The fearless Soldier was afraid of Engineer, as if the man was reading his mind and scanning out his secrets. The suffocating tension broke when Engineer turned around and left the kitchen. Soldier flinched and almost moved a step to follow Engie, but couldn't bring himself to. Another weighty five minutes passed till he decided to retreat back to his room. Poor Pyro was left all alone to do the chores and his Balloonicorn would have said that 'this is unfair.' He thought about burning down everything to ashes because cleaning black powders was so much easier, but Engie told him not to do so long time ago.

 

 

Demo was going to take a quick nap on the roof of Teufort. He wanted to join Sniper's weekly trip to town and get more beer. He could see the van from this height and get all the warmth of the sun which seemed pretty sweet. What Demo didn't consider due to his hungover was that the distance between Teufort and the van wasn't as close as he thought, and Sniper was going to leave an hour earlier than usual. The bombmaker witnessed a magic, where blue sky became deep navy night with stars, in blink of an eye.

"Shite…"  
Demo couldn't believe that he slept through the entire day like it was nothing. Of course the van was gone and hadn't returned yet. He climbed down the roof and wished that he was drunk again to go back to sleep. As he landed on the balcony, he could hear guitar chords being strummed and plucked somewhere. It wasn't like he was going to sleep anytime soon, so Demo walked to the direction where music was coming from. Soon he realised that he was in front of Engineer's work garage.

"…then tell him that his lonesome nights are over! Sandman… I'm so alone. Don't have nobody to call on my own…"  
To Demo's surprise, Engie was singing and it wasn't half bad. The alcohol lover didn't care about the lyrics, but few empty beer bottles around the lonesome singer were much more appealing. Demo wanted to 'borrow' one out from the crate while Engie's eyes were closed in concentration, but the beeping out of nowhere got him busted. That bloody mini Sentry.

"Gosh-darn-diddly. You startled me. What are you doin' here?"  
"…just here tae listen yer singin. Ye are better than me da."  
That was a lie because his father hardly sang at all. He hoped that Engie didn't see his hand retracting from the beer stash, but it was a bit too late.

"Ya can drink with me. Ah needed someone to talk to instead of my guitar."  
Demo obeyed Engie and instantly sat on the ground. The fizzing sensation that slid down his throat was heavenly. The brand was not his favourite, but it was better than nothing.

"…see, all ah wanted from him was to have a talk with me. It was so dang obvious with everything he does! It's not like ah'm made out of hay stack – of course ah'm gonna notice if you are going to follow me around like a pup in town. Ohhhh, at showers. He wasn't even looking at my direction even if there were others around. Funny that he frequently chose booth closest to mine. What kinda game is that? Oh, do you know what ah find strangely fond about him? When he kills any BLU who wrecked mah buildings, he puts that fucker's head on mah dispenser. Whoooo-eeeee. Did we have a good laugh."  
Thanks to Engie, Demo's eyelids were getting heavy again. He knew that Engie's endless drunk rambles were the best lullaby there ever was. He hardly had the chance to experience it as often as he wanted, and it was due to the nature of Engie's work. Tonnes of calculations and tinkering were safer done without any intoxication.

"Ah know all these. They are proofs! Evidences that he likes me in that sorta way. AND AH LIKE IT. But Ah can't tell him that ah know because that's gonna shoot him down. So Ah am gonna wait till he confesses to me by himself, but boy, that's gonna take a while. Maybe one day when he can hold down his own leash whenever somebody calls him gay. Ah am waiting. Ah can wait because that's the Texan way."  
Dell Conagher stroked the helmet that sat beside him. He wasn't sure how long he could wait, but he really wished it to happen before this silly war ended. If he revealed his feeling first when Soldier is still unsure about his sexual orientation, it could go messy. Soldier might feel conflicted to be with Engie and feel guilty from it, while Engie's patience will run out. It could work if Soldier finally accepts the fact that he can have interests in men, but it was unlikely if Soldier forced himself to think like that. Rather than having risks, Engie chose to safer bet that he estimated out from his observation and analysis.

Soldier was on night patrol, or something more of 'I-am-pissed-therefore-I-wonder-indefinitely' patrol. He wanted to talk to Engie but his attitude of mollycoddling the little brat Scout made him furious. To calm his escalating temper down, Soldier looked back at Teufort to see if there was anything suspicious around there. His eyes caught a dark figure on the roof. At first he thought it was BLU Spy, but through his telescope he could identify Demoman's sloppy movement crawling his way down. That son of a dumbtruck must have fallen asleep up there. Soldier was about to look away till he saw Demo going down to Engie's garage. Soldier's heart stopped and began to pump rapidly as he galloped across the field. He thought about using rocket jump but that was going to make a noise. He was praying to all the military genius in Valhalla to not let Demo slip out their drunken conversation.

 

 

As Soldier slowed his pace few meters before Engie and Demo's eyeshot, he snuck behind one of the trucks and leaned in to their conversation. What he had heard in Engie's voice, however, nearly made him drop his rocket launcher. The unexpected variables Engie didn't consider were his drink habit and Soldier possibly hearing what's on Engie's mind.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I swear when I thought about this fanfic, it sounded like a comedy… but now it's a hardcore drama. Sorry about the genre confusion haha but I hope you enjoyed this :)


	3. Chapter 3

[I know it’s a bit late to say, but better than nothing. I don’t OWN Team Fortress 2.  
I give my thanks to inspectorpineapple who proofread my work and helped me out with ideas!]

 

A wiry figure was mindlessly throwing pebbles from top of a hill. This repetitiveness bore him out and eventually he lay down flat on his back. Looking at the orange hue on the sky, Scout touched his nose and hissed in intense pulse of pain. His shirt was messy from blood that he wiped off of his face, but that didn’t make him feel any better. There was no way that Scout was going to forgive Soldier. He didn’t deserve a blow from Soldier for a silly joke. It wasn’t like he only teased Soldier as a gay man. Spy didn’t hit him, so what right did Soldier have? Scout really didn’t want to go back to Teufort, but the night was creeping in and temperature was dropping fast. Night time meant that Soldier would be roaming around for one of his paranoiac patrol, and Scout didn’t want to look like a loser, all alone like a lost puppy. He may as well visit Medic for a shot of medigun.

Scout realised how far he ran away from the base because it took longer than he thought to walk back. Feeling quite tired, he just barged into the empty infirmary with a loud bang. The faint giggle that Scout thought he heard immediately ceased. He gazed beyond the infirmary, where Medic’s laboratory was and wondered if he misheard. Scout tip toed across the room to get to the closed door that led to the lab.

“AH HA, I caught you… Oh, it’s just you two.”  
Scout’s spine shuddered in ecstasy as he whammed the door open, but he was disappointed to see Heavy and Medic staring blankly at him. Heavy was sitting on a work stool with his boring Russian book and Medic was on his desk with papers sprawled out. The suspicion was still in Scout’s heart because he sure heard something. There was nothing was going on, but he really couldn’t tell what he was missing.

“Caught us doing vhat, Herr Scout?”  
Medic returned his eyes on files under him and began to scribble. Heavy also continued to read, or pretended to continue.

“Well, uh… What’s…? Yeah! What’s Heavy doing here? Shouldn’t he be on that butcher bed with his stomach open?”  
Maybe that was it. Not seeing Heavy as a test subject without any blood pumping out was out of the ordinary to Scout.

“Zhat happens at day-time usually. Also, I don’t ‘alvays’ perform zhe surgery on Herr Heavy.”  
“What’s he doing down here, then?”  
“Upstairs is noisy. Doktor’s room is good to read. Thanks to leetle Scout.”  
When Heavy put emphasise his name, Scout slipped out a nervous smile. He was about to throw some more questions, but couldn’t think of one. It seemed like there really was nothing going on. One more question wouldn’t hurt though.

“So… there is nothing f- I mean, nothing going on?”  
Scout refrained to use the word ‘fag’ after the lesson he had this morning. He didn’t want to piss the doctor off before his nose was sorted out. A small amount of sweat seeped out on his back when Medic took his glasses off and gave him a tired look. Heavy raised his eyebrows, but didn’t take his eyes off from his book.

“Nein. If you don’t vant your nose fixed, get out.”  
“Whoa ha ha. Alright, alright! Take it easy, doc. Just zap me and I will be out in a jiffy.”  
Since there was no use of wasting his time here with these boring old farts, he walked over to the medigun.

“Ve don’t need to use it to treat your trivial injury. Sit zhere.”  
“Aw, come on man-“  
“Sit. Zhere.”  
The younger man obeyed his elder and sat on the operating bed. A soft yelp escaped from his mouth when Medic dabbed an alcoholic cotton ball on his scratched nose. When Medic’s hand reached out on Scout’s face, he closed his eyes, bracing himself from more pain.

“All done. Now leave.”  
There was nothing other than folded white gauze taped on the injured area. When Scout stood up to complain, Medic nodded at Heavy.

“Is that all- Hey! Let me down, fatcake!”  
“Your nose is fractured, but not dislocated or broken. Don’t get vater on your scars and stop getting hit on zhe face. Zhat is all. Gute nacht and don’t try to come again.”  
Medic’s words were fast paced but coherent. The Russian lifted Scout by grabbing his torso and placed him gently out of the infirmary. Scout opened his mouth to shout but Heavy closed the door on him. The younger man grabbed the knob that wouldn’t turn and let out an annoyed grunt. There was no way that he could eavesdrop on the fishy pair far away from his earshot.

“Did you lock zhe door to infirmary?”  
“Da.”  
Medic chuckled and moved closer to the bigger figure. The practitioner slid his hands on the sides of Heavy to caress, instead of surgically break his ribs. A pair of massive hands rested on the shoulder that was covered with white gown. Heavy smiled down at his little Doktor and swayed their bodies gently.

“Do you zhink he noticed?”  
“Nyet. But I don’t care. Scout thinks everyone is gay.”  
The familiar smirk crept back as Medic reminisced on what happened this morning. Scout should have been more careful and being a boy was no excuse. If Medic was in Soldier’s position, he would have done the same. Well, not exactly the same, but his way of getting Scout back would have been more methodical. The boy learned his lesson and it put Medic into a good mood. He buried his face deeper into Heavy’s shoulder and smelled the musky fabric. The feeling of those big bear arms wrapping around him was a sense of comfort that his wife couldn’t. The gentle stroke he felt on his back didn’t have sharp nails that eventually backstabbed him. This relationship wasn’t a betrayal to his late wife because that woman filed a divorce paper after she had a go with the enemy Demo. Fuck them. He wanted to stop thinking about those two and focus on his current lover. Heavy’s smile grew wider when the German leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met and didn’t part for a long time.

 

This relationship began to bloom after that massive group drinking they had few months ago. Medic was completely off his face, but he was so adamant on going back to his room when he couldn’t even walk. Heavy was quite drunk as well and at limit of his control. He had to refuse when Medic asked for a shoulder.

“Vat? Zhis is ridiculous. I refuse to fall asleep wizh zhese imbeciles. Zhey vill mock me for sure. Nein, nein. Ich lasse mich nicht erpressen.” [I refuse to be blackmailed.]  
Medic grabbed on Heavy’s shirt to pull himself up. Their eyes met for a second but Medic broke it off, thinking that asking Heavy to help him would be foolish. It was Medic’s fault that the vodka was gone and maybe that is why Heavy didn’t want to help him. Medic sighed in his own stupidity for fucking up another relationship of any form after his wife left him. He came down here because it was Heavy who invited him, but he shouldn’t have stayed. He should just see Heavy on the battlefield, where they had a sure connection as a comrade who shared life and death together. There was no worse shame other than making yourself look like a fool in front of someone you were interested in.

“Ja, I understand. Don’t vorry, kamared. I vill pay your vodka back. Or vait till Oktoberfest if you like bier as vell.”  
Medic wanted to smooth out the crinkles he made on Heavy’s shirt, but his perception was fogged due to intoxication and ended up shoving Heavy in the chest. Heavy wanted to help and didn’t take any notice in that little push. He just didn’t want to touch Medic and lose his control that he held throughout the night. His blue eyes followed Medic’s staggering movement making a shaky ascension. If his German bird was going to make one stumble, Heavy would dash up to lend him a shoulder. Just one trip. This may sound sadistic but he really wished the German to fall and allow Heavy to make a self-satisfying excuse to grab him. Come on, Doktor. Lose your coordination. Any time now.

“Let me help you.”  
Medic thought he was going to break his glasses by face planting on the edge of the stairs, but a huge hand dug under his arm to save him. Medic couldn’t hide how glad he was and hoped that Heavy didn’t see his childish grin.

“Vhy did you invite me?”  
Alcohol was truly devil’s drink because it made him say things that he wouldn’t normally say. He was going to regret this tomorrow when he becomes sober, but right now he didn’t care. Heavy raised his eyebrows in concentration because he wasn’t clear in the head either and walking with another man’s weight on him was harder than he thought. The Russian’s head was busy making a reason that sounded less touchy-feely.

“Soldier and Scout interrupted my reading.”  
“Tsk, zhose dummkopfs don’t know how to appreciate literature. You can alvays come down to mein laboratory if you vant to read. But zhat doesn’t answer mein question.”  
It would be more than just a pleasure to have someone else with him other than Archimedes. Since he frequently asked Heavy to come down for surgeries, he thought it wasn’t out of ordinary to have a bloodless and gore-free hang out.

“Because other men get drunk too easily.”  
“…still doesn’t make any sense.”  
“I wanted to have someone to be less drunk with me.”  
“I have obviously failed, zhen.”  
As Medic hung his head low in shame, Heavy swayed due to the extra pressure. Medic murmured an apology and put his eyes back on the track.

“It’s okay. Nobody managed to stay awake with my vodka in them.”  
“You are too kind.”  
They shared compliments to one another and discussed on authors they have read so far. Since it was Heavy who led the way, they walked past Medic’s room and headed straight toward Heavy’s.

“Danke. See you at zhe laboratory.”  
“Da. Good night, Doktor.”  
“Nacht.”  
They bid a brief farewell and closed the door, not realising that it wasn’t Medic’s room. Heavy walked to the toilet to take a leak and hummed lightly. The night didn’t go as he planned, but it still was more than just good enough for Heavy. When he came back to his room and lay on his bed, it felt smaller than usual and smelt strong of vodka. He was too sleepy to care though.

Everything was a teensy cloudy without his glasses when Medic woke up a bit after five in the morning. His head hurt and mouth was parched. He wanted to move his hands but something thick was on top of his arms. Medic let out a gasp when he found himself in Heavy’s arms like a pillow and traced his blurry memory back to last night. He wanted to go back to his own room and Heavy helped. They had a good talk and Medic blatantly asked Heavy to visit him in the laboratory. Or was it before the conversation? He didn’t know which order they had these talks, and this annoyed him greatly. Everything seemed out of order. He wondered where he found the courage to ask a Heavy to come and have a visit in his workplace without any valid business reason. Fearing that Soldier may burst in to remind them of his stupid morning training, Medic wriggled out of bigger man’s grasp and walked slowly back to his room with least creak on the wooden floor as possible. Medic wasn’t sure if the warmth that Heavy gave him followed around, or he was just blushing madly like an idiotic school girl.

The obnoxiously brash voice of the American was soon heard and Medic rushed outside because he couldn’t bear to see Heavy at this moment. They didn’t ignore or acknowledge each other’s presence during the exercise and breakfast, but it still felt awkward. The physician ended up sitting alone in his laboratory with his head buried in his hands. He thought about continuing with his paperwork from last night. Would it surely take his mind off from all these shenanigans? He wasn’t so sure. He doubted that Heavy would actually come down after all the discomfort that Medic caused, and this room was the lair that he spent most of his days off from the battlefield. Writing anything down without his glasses on wasn’t a big problem, but he couldn’t do any of spilling guts and mixing dangerous chemicals which were far more entertaining. He will have to ask Heavy for his glasses back tomorrow or someday before their next battle. Any day but today where he still felt jittery. He could feel the hangover kicking in and his concentration was slowly faltering. He really didn’t want to be slack at his workplace, but his body was too limp to get up. It was after two hours when he woke up and only half refreshed.

The first thing he noticed was his glasses resting on top of paper piles, and Heavy sitting on a stool with Dostoyevsky on his hands. Medic stared at this friendly intruder and wondered if he should say anything. They could have talked about their accident, or anything to break this silence. Neither of them knew why being mute was better right now, but it was more comfortable than bothering to make a conversation out of courtesy. Medic offered Heavy a place to read peacefully and Heavy accepted. It was as simple as that. They talked and bantered on the battlefield, but this room was like a whole another dimension to them. Other than sharing sets of automatic greetings like ‘hello’ and ‘good night’, this odd ritual in the laboratory went on for a week. There was one night where Heavy’s voice rang through the space other than scribbles and rustles of pages being flipped.

“I have finished this book.”  
Medic didn’t take Heavy for a fool like everybody else did, so he tried to find a meaning behind that sentence.

“Is it recommendable?”  
“It’s long. Gives you time to think.”  
Was he saying ‘you’ as in both of them or just Medic?

“I vill have a read in zhe future.”  
“I can give you one book to read now.”  
Heavy stood up and walked over to the desk that Medic sat on. It was as if the invisible line between them was snapped away like a feeble string. Medic spun the fountain pen on his left hand to help him figure out what is going on.

“I value your opinion in books, Herr Heavy. But your hands are empty.”  
“It’s here.”  
Heavy points at his heart and stared at Medic with unwavering gaze. The bespectacled pair of eyes was shaking in confusion.

“There is something in here that I hid from everybody, including you and me. I read myself from last week and I like it. I don’t hide away like coward, so I let you know.”  
Heavy took Medic’s right hand and grabbed it as if they were having a hand shake. It may look a bit weird way to confess his feelings, but he didn’t want to offend Medic by treating him like a lady. This was a man to man conversation. 

“I like Medic. It’s different from liking Sasha, but you are more important than her. You are more than comrade and friend. I want to protect you, just like you protect me. We make good team and I trust you. I would love to hug you, but not without your permission.”  
Medic froze as if he has stopped functioning. His grip on Heavy’s hand loosened and Heavy took this as a sign to give his crush a space. He took the book that he hardly read and stepped towards the door.

“It’s okay if Medic doesn’t feel that way. I have allowed you to read me and there is no shame in that. If you want to be friends, I can do that.”  
That last bit was a lie, but it was better than losing him as a tactical support out on battlefield and a good friend who shared the same interest in reading. The giant waited for a response, but nothing heard behind his back. He dragged his legs towards the exit and wondered where else he could read.

“Vait.”  
Heavy turned around and tried to suppress down hope welling up in his heart. Medic tried to walk in confidence to hide his nervousness, but made him look like one of those Nazis doing a ridiculously rigid army marches.

“I zhink zhere is a misprint in your book.”  
Before Heavy could say anything, Medic wrapped his arms around that wide abdomen and squeezed tightly. Smelling the bigger man this close took him back to the pleasant surprise of that morning a week ago.

“You did hug me vithout permission, if you can remember.”  
“…so that wasn't dream?”  
This moment would have remained as a beautiful memory if Heavy hadn’t lift Medic up and spun him around until he nearly spewed up. Everything worked out between them and all forms of affections came in naturally. Before they went any further, Medic suggested to keep this relationship a secret. It wasn’t because he was ashamed, but a relationship like this could mean losing his and Heavy’s respect amongst his teammates. He thought about bearing it through till this war ended and live together in one of their mother countries.

Their plan was working so far, and even if Scout accused them, no one would believe him after the incident of this morning. It was thrilling in a way to have something this big hidden perfectly. Medic felt an excited shiver as if he was sliding a scalpel through an uncut membrane. Heavy planted one last kiss on Medic’s forehead, but was hesitant to let him go.

“You must go earlier zhan me. It vill raise less suspicion, remember?”  
“I know. Good night, dove.”  
Heavy really didn’t understand why they had to be all hush-hush about this, but as long as Medic loved him back and wasn’t ashamed of their relationship, he agreed with their secrecy. Medic replied a good night and sighed in happiness as he watched Heavy leaving.

 

 

The sunlight stung Demo’s eye. The warmth of Engie’s dispenser prototype kept the Scotsman from dying of hypothermia. Demo looked around and found himself lying alone in Engie’s garage. Since he was used to having a light headache, getting up wasn’t much of a hassle. On the way back to the main entrance, he found Scout crouching down in front of a curtained window as if he was trying to attain x-ray vision through the brown fabric. A brilliant idea popped in Demoman’s head.

“Ka-boooooom!”  
“AHHHHHH Oh my God, you moron!”  
The result of his war roar made Scout squeal out his trademark shriek. Demo dropped on the ground and laughed uncontrollably till a speckle of tear seeped out from the corner of his eye.

“Ohhhhh ho ho ho ho where are ye going, wee lamb?”  
He was about to ask what Scout was doing there, but the fast runner dashed out as if he had to hide himself. Demo stared at the window and wondered which room it led to and realised it was the medical laboratory. It may not seem like it, but Demo knew Teufort inside out due to his profession as a demolition expert. He just slumbered in the basement most of the time because he bloody can. It was his job to know which place provided a better angle for his bombs to bounce around, and if they had to evacuate in the future he would have to plant explosives to make this building sink. The hunger cut his thought short. Scratching the short fro, Demo stopped staring at the window and proceeded to the kitchen. He missed a light ripple of the curtain caused by a red gloved hand.

[The reference of Scout’s shrieking can be heard from here http://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/7/7f/Scout_sf12_scared01.wav?t=20121027071935]


	4. Chapter 4

[Credit goes to inspectorpineapple for editing :D]

It was a relatively quiet Sunday; the only day of the week where Soldier didn’t bang on frying pans and force people to do an insufferable amount of push ups. The long face dug deeper into his blanket and yawned lazily. It was the ultimate chill and lazy day, and Sniper loved every second of it. The long legs that had been slightly bent all night straightened out and reached the floor of his camping van. Sniper stretched the rest of his body, grabbed a plastic bag that contained toiletries and his faithful kukri. He entered the changing room and saw a tired looking Engie getting stripped for a shower. 

“Mornin’”  
Engie waved and Sniper gave him a nod. The Australian took off his white singlet and shook lightly in the cool and unfamiliar air. Like any other army base, Teufort had an open bay showering. Sniper didn’t have any problem with this system other than having a very short amount of hot water per day. Any problems relating to personal privacy could easily be solved by showering alone really early in the morning or late at night. Alone, if the Goddess of timing allowed them. It seemed like Spy was the luckiest coward so far because Sniper had never seen the naked body of that French. Did he want to see it? Maybe. Whoa, he meant never. What? 

Sniper regarded Spy as an arrogant poser who acted like he is above everybody else. Sniper didn’t care when Spy toyed other mercenaries around, but messing with his property was something that he couldn’t ignore. What right did Spy have to steal his hat during his naps? Sniper almost had the urge to strangle that slime ball when he tasted cigarette butt in his coffee during a battle. There were numerous times where he nearly tripped down without any ‘visible’ obstacles. Sniper endured all these mischievous acts and tried his best not to give any reaction to them. If he lost his cool and further amused the invisible prankster, it would not be advantageous to the Sniper. 

Yet, there was one prank that made him furious but didn’t end up bothering him. There was an incident where the radio in his van was ‘mysteriously’ dialled onto a French channel. At first, Sniper was about to jump out and kill Spy for trespassing into his camping van, the only sacred place he had in this hell hole. He walked back and forth in seething anger and planned to catch this sneaky bastard until a song came on. His agitation gradually melted away as the woman on the speaker sang steadily. The husky alto was very distinctive and smoothly controlled the power. It was too short for his liking and he wished he could buy a record of her album. Sometimes he went out earlier than usual to travel shops farther, but it was hard to find. Ever since that day, Sniper left the dial alone and waited for that charming song to come on. He never dared to even hum the tune out because he hated to admit that Spy did something else other than getting on his nerves. Speaking of getting on his nerves, Sniper failed to ask Spy about that wink. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but it did bother him more than the previous tomfooleries because it seemed more personal. How was he supposed to pin down the balaclava ghost? Even if it sounded risky, the sharpshooter wanted a private talk with him because talking about personal business in public wasn’t his style.

 

“Hey, Slim?”  
Sniper noticed a hand wavering in front of his eyes. He zoned out and found himself clawing on the faucet. Engie was looking at him with worried expression on his face. There was a brief moment where the sound of running water from Engie’s shower head filled in the tiled room. 

“Wot?”  
“Better get going or you’ll miss breakfast.”  
“Hm. Who’s cookin’ this time?”  
“Spah.”  
Hearing that name made Sniper’s hand overly tense and twists the tap. A freezing waterfall slapped his brain out of the short daydream. Engie smirked at Sniper who gasped and staggered backward.

“That Frenchy usually makes enough for everyone, but the chuckwagon and city boy don’t wait for no late comers.”  
“Doesn’t he stay and make some more till everybody’s finished?”  
“If he did, Pyro wouldn’t have swung his axe and tried to chop those two down.”  
Sniper thought about rushing his shower, but he calmed himself down and constantly reminded himself not to get riled up. If Sniper was to hear a proper answer from Spy, he shouldn’t allow himself to seem all tense and make him look like an easy prey. It was like handling a snake – he either gets bitten or extracts its poison. Let the breakfast pass, because he still had opportunities in lunch and dinner. Sniper and Engie shared an idle chat in their shower till Soldier strolled in. Neither of the helmet buddies said anything to each other. Despite of Sniper’s wish, Soldier stood under the booth on his left. Having Engie on his right, the mood became cold and Sniper felt like he was trapped between these two Americans. After hastily shaving his face with kukri, Sniper sort of power walked out of the shower and put on his clothes to get the try and get the breakfast that might have still been waiting for him. 

The kitchen smelt of butter and toasted bread. Sniper cringed at the messy table filled with spilled jams, butter and bread crumbs. Traces of Demo’s terrible table manners and Scout’s rash hand prints were everywhere. Pyro was still digging on his bowl, drinking the cream soup through the breathing vent of his gas mask. Bits of crouton and chickens were dripping out from the neckline of the mask. Sniper hunted some bizarre animals back in Australia, but Pyro would be one of those kinds that he would not even want to point his rifle at. He went back to his van with a bowl of soup and slices of baguette. Who needs jam when he has Vegemite? Sniper whistled the tune of his current favourite song as he got in the van and settled the food down on the tiny table. 

“I see that you have taken a liking of Madame Piaf.”  
Sniper’s aviator almost fell off as he whipped his head towards his bed. The unwanted visitor kindly picked the lock of this van to welcome him. After the little radio incident, Sniper changed the password on his number lock and cleaned the keypad whenever he used them. He was so sure that would stop Spy from sneaking in, but it clearly failed.

“I am not even gonna ask how ya weaselled your way in here again. But you better leave before I skin you.”  
“That is hurtful, mon ami. I came in here to check whether my home cookery is helping you to get in shape.”  
“Quit making it personal.”  
The way Spy’s lips curled slightly on the edge made Sniper feel weird again. The lean Australian sat on the table and scooped a spoonful of soup in his mouth. He desperately wished that his taste buds were lying, but the soup far superior to what he could cook. No, this was just matter of ingredients. If Spy could make crocodile meat tasty out in the swamp, THEN Sniper could admit his rival as an excellent cook.

“I am eating fine. Alone.”  
“Does it please the man who lives in such a pleasurable van?”  
“…it’s decent.”  
Ignoring another mockery, Sniper managed to give an unruffled reply. Nope, not today. Sniper was discouraged to ask some awkward question when he didn’t feel comfortable. It made him feel like a wuss, but he was a man of precision. Not a single word was mixed between them and Sniper kept on eating. He hoped it would bore Spy away, but the bastard kept on half-smiling at him. A set of footstep echoed on the thin board as the suited man approached to the table and sat in front of Sniper.

“May I ask of this black substance?”  
“Vegemite, mate. Bet you Frenchies haven’t even thought of that flavour.”  
Spy smelt the foreign spread and tasted a little by dabbing a fingertip. Tinge of excessive saltiness made a little region of his tongue shrivel and the look of confidence was gone from his ski-masked face. Sniper almost sniggered but held it in. Spy didn’t move a muscle till Sniper finished his breakfast and stood up to make a cup of coffee. Had Spy got nothing to do other than staring at a man finishing his meal? 

“I would like mine black with no sugar.”  
“Who said that you are getting one?”  
“Is this how all bushmen treat their guests?”  
Sniper was not going to let Spy lead him into their usual set of bicker, so he pulled out another cup. He was unaware of how Spy was already manipulating him in a discrete manner. Sniper was ignorant of the fact that his face conveyed every bit of emotion that he tried to conceal through his monotonous voice. He had no use of minding his facial expressions because he always hid miles away from his victims and mostly lived alone without communicating with many people. This was the primary reason that entertained Spy greatly, because Sniper gave him the best reactions in his standards. 

“…ya snotty little nance.”  
Sniper mumbled as he poured out the rich, dark brown liquid into both cups and placed them down on the table like a well-mannered host. Spy openly showed his satisfaction and nodded in phoney gratitude. Sniper was back in the same spot where he had to face the balaclava face even if he rather not. He was antsy about the fact that his privacy was disturbed, but what made him confused was the fact that Spy’s presence didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should be. The thought of all those bothersome deeds made Sniper mad to some degrees, but they all seemed like distant pasts.

“All right, yer cup’s empty. Now piss off.”  
Sniper hastened to chase Spy out because he felt something was stirring in him. His brain was starting to get muddled up. The last thing that Sniper wanted was change in his perspective about this mongrel. Spy in his mind should be left as an annoying prick, not some sort of charming and enigmatic figure that he was curious to know about.

“One smoke, then I shall leave.”  
Spy swiftly whipped out a thin strand of cigarette and lit the lighter. That crossed the tolerable line that Sniper allowed. No one ever set foot in his van, and his first visitor was not going to ruin the air in it. The long arm shot out to snatch it away from Spy’s mouth, but failed as Spy leaned back. Grunting a little, Sniper stood up and leaned forward to lengthen his reach. Spy took this opportunity and leaned forward, narrowing the space between their faces. The tips of two pointy noses almost touched.

“Look who is ‘keen’ to get personal, monsieur.”  
Spy put a contemptuous emphasis on the word that Australians commonly use. Sniper was tongue tied as he tried to comprehend this situation, but he just couldn’t think when his downstair was warming up. It was as if his brain stopped working and his sense of smell was focused on the scent of coffee from the other man’s breath. The dumbfound look on his face exceeded Spy’s expectation. He could steal a smooch here right now, but that was no fun ; fruit tastes the best when it’s ripe. Sniper jerked away and tried hard to say something. He looked like a red goldfish that kept blobbing invisible bubbles.

“How amusing. Excuse moi, but I must leave. Thank you for the coffee, mon cher.”  
It was a perfect time to leave because everything he planned to do was done today. Spy was in no rush to pursue this man. It was like stirring school of fish in a still lake and creating mud pool on the calm surface. Spy truly wanted to make it dirtier in so many ways, so he left some baits and waited them to bite. As he walked backward and winked at the pair of aviator that followed his movement, a poorly aimed kukri flew out. The first step of seduction is directing the attention, and he was already succeeding at it. All he needed to work on right now is to infiltrate Sniper’s barrier of defensiveness.

 

“Piss…”  
Sniper leered at the disappearing figure and sighed in defeat. He thought that he had been handling these situations maturely, but all were futile to stop Spy and his shenanigans. Constantly reminding himself to stay calm was near to impossible when Spy sneaked into his head like his own backyard. Could Spy possibly be wooing Sniper? Was Sniper enjoying this? Did he get horny in those few seconds? Nothing was making any sense to a man who regarded himself as a heterosexual. The fact that he was letting all these mixed emotions in his heart and the ambiguity of Spy’s behaviour was too alien. Waddling back and forth in his van was not going to help him, which lead to an impulse for a ride out of this place. He needed to collect his thought, although he wasn’t sure if that could solve his inner conflict. The engine growled and van vibrated into life. As he was about to press accelerator, there were loud bumps on his door. 

“Lad, ye cannae leave me behind this time. I needae fuel meself or tomorrow’s battle will be a mess.”  
“Not now, Scot. Just get some from Engineer.”  
“I’m gonna break this van in pieces. Oh, it will rain fire and metals! That’s hoow desperate I am.”  
Sniper knew Demo was a fanatic of alcohol, but he didn’t know the man would go this far. The grenades in Demo’s hands were very persuasive and made Sniper nod bitterly. Demo jogged in like an excited five years old going to Disney Land.

“Bless ye soul. We be havin hell of a time at the bar tonight.”  
“Roight. Who is goin’ to drive us back?”  
“Mmmmmmeee!”  
A gas mask plastered upside down on his front window. The abrupt insanity of his teammate was absolutely baffling. No person in right mind would think of riding a car on top of it, but this was Pyro that they were talking about.

“Crikey. Don’t tell me that thing is coming as well.”  
“Who’s gonna be the sober driver, then? The boyo’s in for scoops o’ ice cream. I’ve heard of noo man getting off of his face from milk and sugar.”  
“He’s DRIVING?”  
“Trust me, laddie. Noow move over.”  
Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and hated himself for letting Pyro in his car as well. The front seats were cramped but the living area of his van had enough intruders for a day. Today was turning out to be the most hectic Sunday and his chance to relax was gone the moment Spy showed up. Demo gave giddy Pyro a thumb up and whispered him ‘…drive better this time’. 

When they arrived to the nearest town filled with civilians, the first thing Sniper had to do was paying for Pyro’s big pile of ice cream scoops. The man-child did not care if he had lost or forgotten his wallet as long as he could vacuum suck each chunks of flavours into the void of his mask. Watching Pyro eat anything was truly fascinating, just like an animal documentary that Sniper used to watch in his childhood. They ran around the town because Pyro was like a dog without a leash following sugary scents. The seemingly never-ending dessert journey was put on stop when Pyro pressed his hollow lenses on a miscellaneous shop. Demo and Sniper couldn’t yank off his adamant desire to buy another silver zippo lighter.

“Come on, laddie. If you doon’t follow us, I’m gonnae tell ye on the toymaker!”  
That’s all it took to drag the pyromaniac away. Eventually the RED trio ended up in their regular bar, where it was loud and music flooded everything. Demo was emptying his pints as if he wanted to drown in beer while Sniper sipped his way down, trying to find some sort of logic in his feelings. They played some pool and cards with town folk, but he lost in every game due to his lack of concentration. As he drank few more bottles down, the tipsiness slowly tangled his trail of thoughts. He felt glad when some women flirted with him and was ready to flirt back. However, the image of those lips clasping on a strand of cigarette stopped him from embarrassing himself by being dishonest with these ladies. Pyro’s bizarre manners finally chased them away, but Sniper suggested moving to a quieter table. 

“Bloody bogan.”  
Sniper would shoot whoever said alcohol helps to forget. The bottle in his hand was empty and his wallet was thin from Pyro’s love for sweets. Since he hunted to live, he was unaware of the downside in carrying small amount of cash. The masked glutton noticed a frown on his friend and tried to stretch it out putting fingers onto the skin of his face. Sniper was about to stand up and leave all these clowns who seemed to bother him non-stop.

“Ye face looks longer than a horse. Keep it oup.”  
Demo thwacked the rubbery fingers away before Pyro scrunched Sniper’s sullen face. He shoved an unfinished pint, lightly punched Sniper on the arm and grabbed his shoulder down. The bomber tried to keep the mood light so Sniper wouldn’t be too angry if Pyro ended up making few bumps on his camper van on the way back to Teufort. 

“Like you look any better, cyclops.”  
“Shut your geggy. This one eyed titan may have gotten laid if ye didn’t chase them fairies awaey. Aye, they were mighty fine.”  
“Oh, getting it on with drunken sheilas. Real man, that you are.”  
Demo rolled his eye at how Sniper was being too serious with his joke. He wasn’t a charity case, but being mopey in a bar was an ugly sight. Just like his old orphan used to say, being kind rewards you in a form of cash or booze. He got the ride for alcohol, so maybe helping Sniper out through talking was a fair trade.

“Coome on. It was a jooke. What’s going on with ye? At least ye gottae admit those hens were nice.”  
“I’ve had enough of flirting.”  
That was an unexpected answer. Demo tried to think outside of the box because after Soldier and Engie’s confessions, he realised that anyone could be with anyone. He slid another full pint in front of Sniper and narrowed his eye.

“From who?”  
“I don’t know. It’s S… this sheila I know, obviously.”  
It was hard to hear the first lisp. Demo missed out on the clue due to the screeching violin in the background. If this truly was a girl flirting with Sniper, Demo didn’t understand why Sniper was fed up with it. They had a lengthy discussion of how this ‘woman’ acted around Sniper, his incapability to decipher her movements and whether he was being played or not.

“Ye are playin’ with a slee fox. The moment ye let yer guard doown, she’ll chomp on yer hairt.”  
“More like backstabbing me.“  
“Bite her. Bite her before she bites ye or worse – leaves ye.”  
Sniper shook his head at this incomprehensible metaphor Demo was using. It sounded too obscure.

“Just what are you on about?”  
“She wants tae play, you eejit. Ye can’t stairt everythin’ on a stone.”  
“The biting bit sounds like a shonky business.”  
“Mmmmee mmmmave mmmo mmmooo”  
Pyro tugged both men’s wrists and pointed at the clock. It was half past nine and they had to leave before Soldier’s curfew closed on them. It wasn’t the iron rule, but their job could be at stake if they performed poorly at the battle tomorrow. Sniper was surprised that Pyro managed to not hit anything and get them out of trouble by arriving at Teufort on time. The three bid a night wish and Sniper was finally alone, sitting on the open entrance of his van and pondered upon what Demo had said. He doubted that there won’t be any regret from acting out of lust, because that usually didn’t end up well with women that he slept with. However, if Spy came down to his van right now, Sniper couldn’t guarantee that he could hold himself back. Sniper took his tinted glasses off and stared into the night sky. Counting the gleaming glitters on the velvety surface gave his brain a rest. He closed his eyes to let the cool air blanket him. Footsteps were heard in front of him and a familiar fume of smoke made his nose crinkle.

“Piss off.”  
“I’d rather not pee in front of someone’s home.”  
“You know damn well what I’m saying, mongrel.”  
Sniper pushed himself off from the van to help balance him. The advice that Demo told him kept replaying like a broken cassette in his ears. This was the first time he was making an eye contact with Spy without his aviator acting as a shield, but it was necessary if he was to play their game. Besides, being drunk provided him a sufficient excuse. He had enough thought of this scenario and it's time to put it on action. There was no going back. 

“What if I don’t want to?”  
“Then stay.”  
Spy twitched his eyebrows at the change in his tone. He stood still while Sniper approached him. Spy wondered at this sudden boldness. The eyes behind balaclava followed a hand that took his cigarette away. The sensation of warmth behind his neck was surprisingly gentle and Spy found himself being delighted with where this was going. The arms in that striped suit wrapped around the back of Sniper, just above his hips. Although this may not happen in the future, Spy decided to have a preview of what he was working with. 

“I’ll bite ya.”  
“Better do it before I do.”  
Their lips met once with soft smack and then fiercely reunited. Spy was mildly taken aback when Sniper pushed in to deepen the kiss and the contact of taller man’s other hand running into his suit made Spy breath harder. Lips grazed each other and tongues danced in hot, slippery friction. Sniper stepped back, pulled Spy into his van and let them tumble on the floor. It was a difficult wrestle to strip each other’s top off in such constricted space, but that soon came to be an advantage to make their bodies stay on contact. Everything was made in hurried motions as if they had been longing for this moment. A moan escaped from Spy when another man’s face dug into his neck and eagerly licked it with feverish kisses. Sniper was doing what he learned from having sex with girls, but he wasn’t sure what to do with men's lower body part other than masturbating his own. He stroked the fabric above Spy’s erection and looked at the French helplessly.

“Ah, so this is where your outback education runs short. Worry not, mon cher. Leave it to the expert.”  
“Can’t you at least take off that stupid mask off?”  
“Non. Listen to what I tell you like a good student.”  
Sniper leaned back, gasped as Spy sucked on his collar bone and felt his cock harden as a hand wrapped around it.

Thank goodness he lived in a van, way from the others because the noises they made were far from soft murmurs.

 

[The idea that Sniper would shave using kukri came from this picture http://liquidsilk.deviantart.com/art/Carpe-Diem-Boys-215238783 Thanks to liquidsilk for such idea and also thank you to Natasha who informed me :D]


	5. Chapter 5

[Thanks to inspectorpineapple for editing :)]

 

The weekends were over and the usual repetition of blood-shed commenced. This so called ‘war’ was just another way of creating gore spree in different games they played to get paid. RED team were all down in the respawn room, giving a final check their weapons and equipment before the oncoming battle. The young Bostonian was fully pumped to bash some skulls with his trusty bat and shoot down whoever couldn’t follow his lightening movement. He couldn’t wait to relieve his stress through senseless violence and forget about everything that had been bothering him over the last few of days. He avoided Soldier, not only because he was scared of him but he was slightly ashamed at his idiotic and insensitive humour. The cocky youth wasn’t a complete dickhead because he understood the wrong he had done. It was just his stupid pride stopping him from admitting his mistake. From what he learned from his older brothers and school, snarky jokes were the way of showing friendliness. It still hasn’t occurred to him that the same tactic wasn’t going to work with men who were at least a decade or two older than him. Engie was closest that Scout had as a friend and some sort of an uncle figure, but the Texan’s behaviour has grown cold after the inappropriate joke that led to his nose bleed. The way Engie acted like nothing big happened, and was polite to Scout with courteous chats and greetings almost felt like having a passive-aggressive mother. Scout hated this sort of subliminal pressure and wanted to end it fast. He stared at the backs of Engie and Soldier who were standing far away from each other. If it wasn’t for Scout, the two older American men would be discussing a battle tactic like they used to before every battle.

“Let’s do this.”  
All of this pressure made today’s battle was extra important for Scout. The bandages on his hands were wrapped tighter, his dog tag received a light peck and Bonk! Soda can just was quickly emptied. He was going to prove them all that he was something more than a silly chatter box and win his respect back. Maybe Soldier will be in better mood if Scout help to defend their points by ambushing the enemy before they could even come out from their respawn room. Maybe he can muster up some courage to apologise and show everybody that he wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. The bench he sat on gave series of small squeaks as his legs were fuelled with caffeine and anticipation. Scout sprung out as soon as the iron fence slid open and double jumped on a mini hut. He could hear the echoes of roars and Scottish swears behind him.

The first few hours of this game was evenly matched. Neither team was outdoing the other, but still, they threw snide taunts over the bodies they killed. Heavy and Medic were in sync as they sprinted across the field and Scout gave his counterpart a middle finger of zero respect. However, RED began to falter when BLU began to push in by using their ubercharged Heavy as their spear. Much to Scout’s dismay, RED’s point was contested and soon captured. While his teammates retreated, the fast runner didn’t hesitate to infiltrate through the waves of blue uniforms even if his stomach got punctured. Sniper cursed at Scout acting like a dog scattering his prey away and Heavy ceased to retreat and tried his best to keep the boy alive by giving him a support from behind. Scout’s reckless sprinting peaked at its worst when even Demo, the man who enjoyed the sight of limbs flying like fireworks, felt sick when half of the flesh raining down was his Scout’s. It was against Medic’s judgement to follow Scout, but the youngster died before he could do anything. Scout’s quick death was causing imbalance in ally to enemy ration of 8:9. Any fool could see that Scout’s eagerness was distracting his teammates with meaningless puddle of blood and senseless panic.

“Scheiße, zhat dummkopf runs beyond mein medigun.”  
“Who fed that lamb me beer?”  
Engie agreed with the frustrated remark. He had some idea behind Scout’s desperation and regretted the fact that he couldn’t be fully friendly with the youngster in the last two days. If only Soldier could forgive Scout and calm his nerves down, they might be able to follow through the proposed tactic and defend their last point. The least he could do now was to move his level three dispenser closer to RED point and hope Scout would use it rather than wasting his life away. As the dispenser assembled intself, Engie hurried on building an exit part of the teleporter. While his wrench clanged restlessly for upgrades, red glows beamed. He recognised a familiar pairs of shoes and heard various voices of gratitude above his head. When his device reached up to level two, a pair of black army boots appeared in front of his nose and stood still. Engie stopped his work and lifted his head up to face his fellow American. Soldier stared down at the opaque pair of lenses and felt a strange sense of arousal. He was aware that they were in the middle of battlefield and their relationship has been stagnant, but his pulse accelerated by simply watching Engie’s head below his waist. It was one of his a guilty pleasures that he tried to deny ever since they fought together. The ice still carried on from last Satuday morning and Soldier wished he could shatter it away.

“Is there a problem?”  
The awkward silence was broken by Engie’s cool tone as he stood up and leaned against his dispenser. Soldier planted himself on the teleporter and wondered if a compliment would help thaw away the frost.

“No. I would like to say this is an excellent location for the deployment.”  
“Don’t thank me. Ah had’ta hustle down here ‘cause of the string bean. Don’t you reckon it’s ‘bout time that you be nice to him?”  
Soldier’s nose twitched in slight annoyance but didn’t put his voice on it. The last thing he wanted was another air of disagreement between them. He was aware that Scout was working excessively harder than the usual, but he still didn’t understand why Engie was being soft on that pup while everybody else was also fighting till their intestines hung low to the ground. Perhaps Soldier should be the bigger man and make up with Scout. If that was going to make Engie less cold to him and help to create the right moment to confess, Soldier could put his pride aside and listen to the smarter man.

“Is that all you want?”  
“What else can Ah ask for?”  
Engie stared at the tiny movements on Soldier’s lower jaw. The dispenser beeped for maintenance but Engie’s attention was on Soldier. Staring back at the Texan, Soldier cleared his throat to ease the tension.

“You may have that ‘talk’ you wanted last Saturday.”  
Engie could feel his ribs shaking in anticipation when Soldier showed the willingness for a proper conversation instead of their foolish silent treatment. Soldier saw Engie opening his mouth to reply, but a sudden bump below his feet made his view flip upside down. The teleporter glowed as Scout shot out and unintentionally pushed Soldier off the ground.

“Who the fuck stands on tele-”  
The goggles on Engie reflected the alarmed look on younger face and frowning mask on the older. Soldier stood back up, dusted himself off and gazed at the immobilised Scout. He lifted up his calloused bare hand and made Scout raise his arms as if a brick was being thrown at him. Engie stepped forward and readied himself if another brawl broke out between these two guys. Soldier raised his eyebrows at these reactions and rolled his eyes.

“Come with me, son.”  
“Oh gawd I’m sorry, ‘kay? I swear I won’t call you fa-”  
“Less talk and more fight, cupcake!”  
Soldier hooked his arm on the narrower neck and dragged his subordinate away. Before they exit the tunnel, Scout threw a puzzled look which Engie responded with nod and smile. Engie knew Soldier would listen to him. Besides, what happened on Satuday was nothing but a trifle collision. Over the past few years, Engie perceived that some men in this group of arms were terrible communicators. All they had to do was to talk it out rather than bottling in what’s on their minds, and Engie was finally having a genuine talk with Soldier after this battle. The wrench in his hand danced as it finished upgrading the teleporter to its final level. Pyro came in for a spy check and delighted to see Engie whistling tunes while his sentry splattered the enemy Demo. He hugged Engie, mistaking that the man in his arms was also gleeful of seeing rainbows and bubbles.

 

 

The mood in RED team calmed down after Soldier took control of Scout and his frenzy. RED eventually won at the end of the day and claimed their victory as they successfully defended their last point. Through his rifle scope, Sniper smirked at the sight of BLU Soldier stomping his feet and bearing his canines like a buffoon in front of his depressed looking comrades. He wanted to relish the comedic site in triumph till something blocked his view.

“Battle is over, monsieur sadique.”  
“Bugger off. Let me enjoy this.”  
Spy sighed as if he was taking candies away from a child. Sniper finally let his rifle down when the sensation of sleek leather glove touched his neck .He felt the temperature on his face rising when Spy slithered a knee between his legs and another hand wrapped around his waist.

“I can offer a better enjoyment…”  
Having Spy this close reminded Sniper of the steamy make out they had, but anything after that was a haze. When he woke up in the morning, he still had his pants on but that didn’t guarantee whether they had no intercourse. No matter how amazing last night was, Sniper regretted that he was recklessly drunk and wished to have kissed this man sober. His newfound identity was a domain that he was afraid to explore, but using Spy as some sort of drunken self-gay check would shame him to eternity.

“…if only you would allow me to.”  
“So we didn’t do it last night?”  
Sniper felt an immediate knot in his stomach when Spy gave him a glare at that question. A siren of warning flashed in his head when Spy stepped back. Without a hesitation, Sniper quickly hugged in the French before he slipped out of his reach. He could feel firm muscles tensing to make an escape, but Sniper held on tight as if he caught a precious national treasure that he could only touch once in his life time. 

“I have class, bushman. A gentleman does not make non-consensual love.”  
Sniper loosened his grip in relief at how his conservative moral code wasn’t tainted. Spy took this chance to free himself and glided behind Sniper. The taller man hissed in mild pain when Spy twisted his arms and slammed him against the wooden wall.

“If you took me as a ruffian who rapes drunken men, then I am disappointed in you.”  
“Relax, mate. I never meant to offend you in anyway. I am just new to this.”  
The constriction on his arm tightened which indicated how displeased Spy was. Sniper felt like he was walking on a lethal mine field.

“New to what?”  
“Being a poofter.”  
A piece of puzzle clicked in the trickster’s brain. The last words Spy heard made some sense in these defensive and unsure attitudes Sniper has been conveying. Spy thought he was flirting Sniper out from being a closet gay in denial and the alcohol was a catalyst. However, it alters the story if Sniper recently found out his interest in men through Spy’s seduction. Accepting one’s sexual orientation after being in denial, and discovering one’s sexual attraction to men, women or both were not the same thing. One was a full stop while the other was a beginning of a sentence. Spy felt like it was his responsibility to guide this poorly lost man. Was Sniper worth the bother? Well, Spy was getting thirsty for a hotter night and he would rather not ride a van that jams itself in self-doubt. Spy loved difficult games and grinned as if he found a secret a boss level. He concocted a new strategy on top of his head.

“I see what you mean. No worries. See you at the dinner.”  
Spy whispered and fled off to avoid another locking embrace. Sniper stretched the ache out of his arms and scratched his neck in frustration. It seemed like he chased Spy away and he didn’t know which part of his words triggered this. Since it was futile to even predict what will happen next with Spy, Sniper gave up worrying and decided to move on for now. As he visited the ammunition room to refill his rifle, a shorter man bumped into him. Engie looked rather gloomy with his lower lips pouted out slightly more than the usual.

“Have you seen Soldier around?”  
“Nah.”  
Engie muttered an apology and checked to Soldier’s empty room again. Half an hour passed since the battle finished and Soldier was nowhere in the respawn room. Scout said he was alive when the Announcer ended the battle, so he must be somewhere in the Teufort. Engie was far from being amused if this was some sort of joke. Soldier was hiding after giving Engie a hope which was darn right rotten. The man of patience reminded himself to not become upset, for there will be a time to see Soldier at dinner and there was no escape with Engie sitting close to him. Sitting alone in his crush’s room was getting him nowhere. Engie rushed into his workshop and began to tinker whatever he could grab within his reach. He just needed to touch anything to distract himself away from fuming stress before dinner. No one was fazed by a loud bang of explosion from the kitchen. It was just Pyro being a daily chef.

 

 

The hour hand hit six and Pyro greeted each individual who came to the kitchen with sprinkles of salt. The table had bowls of spicy oriental noodles and forks erecting upright with sharp end stuck in the table. This looked less bizarre than last time when they had to pluck chopsticks off from the ceiling. No one complained that noodles were the only kind of food that Pyro cooked because they didn’t want to get incinerated and Pyro seemed most comfortable as he sucked them through his mask. When Engie walked in the dining area, he found Soldier sitting next to Demo. Oh, he sure was going to have a word with Mr-I-have-some-nerves-to-chicken-out.

“Howdy, Captain Chicken.”  
Soldier didn’t flinch at the hardness in his crush’s tone. Instead of offering an explanation, Soldier nodded, pulled a seat beside him and handed a tiny object on Engie’s hand. It was a piece of paper with a message and Engie regained his laidback smile back by just reading it.

“At nine? You better not desert me out this time, mister.”  
“You have my word.”  
The meal carried out in idle chats of ‘who-shot-who’ on the battlefield. Scout and Demo were the loudest to verbally compete on how many enemies they shot and Heavy chortled at such pettiness. Spy was sitting on the opposite end to Medic and made sure that Sniper sat on his right by giving him a subtle tug on his vest. The atmosphere was casual enough for Spy to start an unusual conversation with Medic.

“Docteur, I must thank you for letting me borrow one of your books.”  
“Ja. Freud, vas it?”  
“Oui. It was a good translating exercise, but there were few bits that I could not fully understand and I don’t have any dictionary with me. Would you be kind and help me clarify few things?”  
“I vill try my best.”  
The German narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out where this chat was going. He did not find the fact that Spy borrowed a German book suspicious, but asking for a help seemed out of Spy’s character. Psychology was not his area of profession, but Medic did an extensive study out of personal interest. Medic was confident that that Spy wasn’t going to make a fool out of him, but you can never be too careful with a man who wears mask 24/7.

“Bien. What does this mean?”  
Spy handed a piece of paper and Medic accepted it sceptical look.

“Konstitutionelle bisexualit… ah, inner bisexuality.”  
“That’s what it meant! I thought it was ridiculous to have a ‘constitution’ involved in such matter, whether a person can love both men and women.”  
“I find it amusing at how you zhought law related subjects vould be one of zhe main headings in such book.”  
Medic scoffed at Spy who was smiling back sheepishly. Heavy could see his lover gleaming in sense of superiority that a teacher would have, and sighed at the oncoming of long lecture.

“According to zhis zheory, all humans are born bisexual. Zhis is related wizh hermaphrodism, vhere humans undergo at early stages of psychological development…”  
Spy held a Cheshire grin when Sniper took his bait and showed a sign of intrigue. To him, the way his Australian frowned in concentration to understand whatever flowed out from Medic’s mouth was entertaining and adorable. Medic explained how monosexuality could be derived from latent bisexuality altered by internal and external influences and Sniper’s mouth gaped in self-reflection. Sniper darted his eyes around the room to see if others were snooping on this queer talk, and was relieved that no one was looking at him or Medic. As the doctor was about to discuss the linkage of DNA inheritance and sexual orientation, Sniper cut in.

“So… so doc. Are you saying that it’s normal for a bloke to become a poofter – I mean, gay?”  
If Sniper wanted to be discrete, he should have at least whispered. He was oblivious to the fact that Soldier and Engie had been eavesdropping from the very beginning.

“Nein. Have you been listening? Zhe zheory is saying zhat ve all are born bisexual. As ve grow up, ve keep zhat bisexuality in the background and may become to favour eizher of zhe same, opposite or both sex. But if we take a look at zhis in biology…”  
The German kept rambling on while writing an invisible scribble on the table. Medic was searching through his memory and attempted to write down what he had read a long time ago. It was like watching a magician consumed in a spell he was casting and gradually shutting out whoever was around him. Spy winked at Sniper and gave him a nudge on the ribs. Two men sneaked out while Medic was trapped in his ‘zone’. An hour passed and eventually everybody left the room except Heavy.

“Doktor, they are gone.”  
“Shhh, vait. I zhink I got it.”  
Heavy knew exactly what do to when the workaholic doctor was hypnotised in his own thoughts. Medic’s trail of thought was interrupted when blunt fingers tenderly took his glasses off and another hand wrapped his eyes, which ended up covering his entire face. Heavy gently pulled Medic on his shoulder and let few seconds pass till Medic relaxed completely.

“Dankeschön.”  
Medic was mindful of his strange habit that made him socially awkward but if he had Heavy looking out for him like this, it was an advantage in a way.

 

 

As promised, Soldier headed to Engie’s workshop, but half an hour earlier than the promised time. Soldier could not march beyond this door where the relationship they built over past few years could change in a matter of seconds. His mind mulled over the conversation that he overheard at the dinner table and pondered the degree of relevance it had in his life. These past few days have truly been eye opening and the clash between his old and new personal values started to become lopsided. There was no doubt that Soldier and Engie wanted each other and everything he had heard from Demo and Medic encouraged him. If all the men in the world were born as ‘bi-something-ality’ and some chose to love women, Soldier himself could damn well choose to love a man. He scoffed at how simple this all was and breathed in deeply. As his shaky hand reached out to grab the knob, the door unexpectedly sprung open and revealed Engie who jolt in mild surprise.

“Dang. Why didn’t ya knock?“  
It all happened in speed of light when Soldier cupped Engie’s cheeks and leaned in to make their lips meet. Engie had no reason to struggle but to kick the door close as he let Soldier push him back into his room. Their helmets clicked as they savoured the flavours of soft flesh in their mouth. Pencils and blueprints fell off from the desk when Soldier placed Engie on it and sandwiched himself between Engie’s thighs. A pair of strong arms clung onto his back muscle, which was equally as solid as the toolbox beside them, and pulled in tighter. The wet smacking noise was mixed with hot and irregular breathing, but neither of them was keen to let go. The exchange of saliva prolonged for a while till they gasped for a fresh air. Their faces pulled apart and Soldier removed the goggle and hardhat. He finally could contemplate on those hues of blue without any distress. There was no need to hide or lie to himself and his man. 

“Well. This wasn’t how Ah imagined our talk would be like.”  
“It’s not too late to have an actual talk.”  
“Naw, body talk is fine.”  
Soldier could feel a wave of chill on his sweaty hair when Engie took his helmet off. The hard tile rebounded clinks when belts and overalls fell, and few books were knocked off as Engie reached out for a condom. Neither of the two lovebirds realised as Demo u-turned away from the doorstep. He wanted to borrow some chemicals from Engie rather than witness their ongoing gay sex

 

[The Freud reference can be found here  
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Innate_bisexuality]


	6. Chapter 6

White doves flew under a red sky and screams of dying enemies rung like a sweet opera. The amputator sliced through BLU scums effortlessly and his syringe gun was doing its job of making human hedgehogs. As he climbed above pile of the dead, a hot thrill of glory and pride swelled up in his arteries. Instead of the sun, he was greeted by the strands of ray shining from the bald head of Hippocrates. He waved at Heavy who was merrily shooting down the miserable infidels. Everything was in his favour and even the skulls under his boots were crackling with a joyous tone. When he was sure that no one could possible taint his immaculately white doctor’s gown, an acute pain skewered his shoulder. Blood pouted over his head and the light of his merry land darkened. The mountain of corpses that he was standing on started to crumble. Bony fingers dragged him down to the depth of a fiery hell where devils slapped pink triangles on their victims’ arms. No, not like this. He managed to hide his identity while his fellow intern doctor Hans was brutally clubbed to death by brain washed hooligans with Nazi idealism. All Hans ever did was to love Gunter. All those people who had an unconventional love either lost their jobs or lives, but not him. He kept his queer desires under control. The great bigot Hitler died years ago. No one, not even his late divorcee, knew that he was swung the ‘wrong’ way.

"Oh but we both know, mon ami. I know your ‘hush-hush.’"  
The voice behind him dripped essence of dread into his heart. Spy with purple balaclava was cackling and Freud was frowning in shame. Where was his strong lover when he needed him? Heavy was nowhere to be seen and the impending blackness loomed over his vision. Boos and jeers from his RED teammates overwhelmed him as he fell deeper. This was it. It was over. His stable life was in jeopardy and the talents and effort he strived in his time were going to be shadowed by whoever he chose to kiss. When he thought nothing worse could happen, a ringing throb on his head proved him wrong. Medic was awakened from his nightmare by face planting on the wooden floor as he fell off from his bed. In drowsy numbness, he lay still and observed the dirt under his bed for five minutes. The dream was beyond unpleasant and this was all because of that strange conversation Spy started at dinner. Why, why in the world did they have to talk about bisexuality at dinner table full of men? Medic hoped that he didn’t misjudge the impact of such topic would have on his title as team’s field physician. The dream that represented his anxiety proved that he wasn’t in control of everything. The heat on his body was quickly draining out as if the illusion of being stabbed was still haunting him. Medic jumped up to shake off the eerie sensation and stared at his cold bed. A risky craving for human contact filled his heart and he didn’t want to stay in his room alone.

"For the last time Scout, you are not touching Sasha."  
"It’s me."  
Medic laughed a little at the respond he got from knocking on Heavy’s door, which instantly opened to reveal a happy giant.

"May I come in?"  
It was a rhetorical question, really. With one scoop of his wide arm, Medic was sucked into Heavy’s room and the door locked shut in the most delicate manner. Heavy raised his eyebrows the moment he touched Medic’s hands and noticed how chilly they were. Just like his mother used to on a night of a freezing blizzard, Heavy lifted Medic up effortlessly and gave him a firm embrace. Sure, Medic was taller than the most average men but he was lighter than a machine gun.

"You are cold."  
"I know."  
Medic rested his chin on the bulky shoulder and sighed in tired relief. He didn’t complain when Heavy took both of them onto the bed and wrapped their bodies in blankets. This was the second time Medic lay with Heavy on the same mattress and it was blissful to have someone to cuddle with after a being subconsciously terrified. Heavy wanted to ask the reason behind this unusual visit from his ever cautious lover, but that could wait till Medic felt comfortable. He really didn’t mind if Medic was going to say nothing because the fact that Medic came to him for a comfort was satisfying enough. Time flew past and the grandfather clock from the lounge chimed twelve times. Heavy was drowsing back into his disturbed sleep till a gloveless hand touched his chin.

"I zhink Spy knows."  
"Huh- what?"  
"Vhy did he talk about such subject? It’s not like him to let ozher people know about somezhing zhat he doesn’t know. He could have asked me after dinner. Vhat benefit did he gain from discussing innate bisexuality on zhe dinner table? Maybe zhat is vhy Scout was peeking through the vindow to mein lab. Did I seem too enzhusiastic vhen I explained it to Spy and Sniper? Vhat if ozhers were also listening? I should have been more careful. Oh, I am getting old and careless. Ve are going to lose our jobs and- Heavy, I am not joking!"  
Medic jabbed the broad chest bouncing in muffled snigger. He couldn’t understand how Heavy found this situation remotely amusing when their life as a mercenary was at stake.

"Don’t be mad, Doktor. I don’t think you should worry."  
"Do you realise zhat he can hide like a ghost? Vhat if he is in zhis room now?"  
Medic busily eyed every corner of Heavy’s room and regretted that wasn’t wearing glasses right now. Heavy adoringly stared at Medic being timid like a rabbit and stroked the jet black hair.

"Spy can’t do anything. Is he going to get extra money by ratting us out?"  
"Nein, but-"  
"Does he have proof?"  
"He vill raise suspicion-"  
"We are doing nothing wrong."  
There was no word to negate the sternness in Heavy’s voice. Medic was blinded by paranoia from his past and forgot that he wasn’t in Germany, and yet he still was weary of homophobia that might not exist among this team. Fear that was deeply embedded in his brain created a faceless monster and it took an image of Spy tonight. Yes, it wasn’t a crime when they were being the source of happiness for each other. However, Medic had number of other aspects in his life to consider other than his respect as a doctor in Teufort. The world was still cruel for people like him. A clean reputation was a must if he wanted to own a decent clinic without a doctor’s license and earn money for him and Heavy after they retire from the field. He was aware of how over reactive he was being right now, but really, no one can be too careful with Spy.

"I am sorry Herr Heavy. I didn’t mean to imply anyzhing negative regarding to our relationship."  
"Dove, you worry too much. If Spy makes you worry, I will persuade him with my fists."  
"Zhank you for zhe offer, but I vould not vant you to dirty your hands."  
Medic was jealous of how unwavering, confident and simple his lover was, but living a life was more than having a heart of a lion. He will have to be the shrewd-minded one and keep his eyes on Spy for now, but how could he spy on Spy? That was something to worry about tomorrow. Medic fell asleep on his Siberian bear, the most perfect bed that all the kings of present and past would envy for.

 

Medic’s paranoia was far off from the actual situation because Spy was tending his own business with Sniper after dinner. The camp fire pasted two silhouettes of slender figures against the white tinted van and Pyro first saw these shades from the kitchen, he wanted to join his friends for a shadow play. He ran into their direction in glee and soon realised neither of the dark and elongated men moved but their fleshy originals were exchanging soft mutters. It was hard to hear them from far away but as he approached words gradually became audible. Engie said interrupting a conversation was big ‘no-no’, so Pyro was going to be patient and sat where he could see their shadows and hear them better.

"Are you still confused?"  
"Yeah, a bit. Doc sorta explained it though."  
The dome head was moving toward the other that had extra bump with pointy ends on his head. It took a while till Pyro realised it was a hat rather than a snake that ate an elephant.

"Well, you kissed me and seemed very certain."  
"Ah well about that…"  
Slendy with hat retreated when baldy’s arm was about to merge into his chest. Pyro liked to imagine this as a shadow theatre where these men were attempting to kill each other by puncturing each other’s bodies.

"Do you regret it?"  
"Nah, nah! It was more than fine. I mean you are an amazin’ kisser and… Holy dooley, what am I sayin’."  
Wait, maybe this should be a ‘silly pose’ competition. The way he flailed his arms around in embarrassment amused Pyro because it looked like blowing raspberries. This was getting better seconds by seconds.

"Your willow like attitude is testing my patience, bush man."  
"Come on, mate. Sleeping together ‘is’ serious. Believe me; I do want to get serious with you too, but…"  
Oooh, the shorter guy made triangles on his sides by putting hands on hips. Pyro wanted more reaction from the taller man than merely taking his hat off and walk forward.

"What’s holding you back?"  
"I am just wonderin’ if you are serious as well."  
Circle head faltered backward and blocked the other’s arms reaching out to him. Why was he mad when hugs can solve anything? The air between them was tensing up.

"Speak no more."  
"I mean, you have been pullin’ my legs a lot…"  
"Did I prank tonight as well? Why don’t you ask for a bouquet and make me kneel to you?"  
Finally! Pyro was about to clap when one started to jab the other in the chest. The escalating intensity was making Pyro giddy and all he could ask for now was a healthy fist fight scene.

"I’m not a bloody sheila. I just wanted to know whether you are being- don’t you dare leave."  
"Try to catch me this time, ‘hunter’."  
Alas, climax has arrived. Two shadows jumbled and tangled in close combat, but it was hard to know who was touching where. Despite of Pyro’s wish, it soon ended with a loud thwack and Sniper grunted in pain on his chest. Pyro was disappointed when Spy quit the play and cloak himself away into darkness. The shadow followed its invisible owner out from the white surface and Sniper failed to grab his man disappearing in thin air. Pyro wanted to throw rocks at Sniper for being a party pooper, but the man was kneeling, looking so sad and pitiful. Sniper yelled at Pyro for coming out of nowhere and locking him an embrace of sympathy. Pyro finally released Sniper when the precious baby camp fire extinguished and bleak darkness settled in to end the night.

 

The new sun crept up from the East and Soldier was already awake to raise everybody up for a healthy morning exercise. The time was half past five and he hastily put on the pants that hung on one of the inactive sentries. His body was light, fresh and energetic as if he became a new man. He was fascinated at how one good fuck could make him feel this way and felt glad to have someone who would do it with him. Soldier looked down at his still lover and gently woke him up.

"Lookin’ mighty smug there, partner."  
Engie commented on the broad smile that Soldier was unconscious of. His body was aching for obvious reasons and for the first time in his life as a mercenary in Teufort, he wanted to stay put instead of carrying out the morning routine.

"Never felt better. I can take on hundreds of BLU commie tanks!"  
"Say that after you take the bottom, boy."  
The grin on Soldier face faltered when he felt a blood rush. Snippets of memories where he roughly plunged Engie excited him slightly, but also made him guilty for being such a wild animal without any restraint. Soldier was compelled to pick up red shirt and overalls, knelt beside Engie and questioned if he should apologise or express gratitude. Neither didn’t sound right but it felt uncomfortable to leave this unacknowledged.

"Well done. You took it like a man."  
The face under the helmet shaded into deeper red as Engie muffled out a guffaw. Engie was amused at how unnecessarily serious Soldier’s tone was, and considering that they just had gay sex and how Soldier used to regard gay men as non-manly beings, such phrase seemed ironically hilarious.

"Took it like a man. TOOK IT LIKE A MAN. What in the tarnation does that even mean?"  
"Get yourself together. I will not tolerate lateness even if you are my… my… "  
Engie tried held his lungs from further laughters till Soldier stormed off and finished mumbled few frustrated swear words. Engie wasn’t really sure how he began to love such a silly man, but having an honest and sweet idiot was better than a pretentious smartasses back in Texas. The loud footsteps and whiny complaints from Scout echoed the building. Engie took it as a signal to brace his aches from lower back and shake off any remaining laziness in him. The stairs creaked as he walked up to the ground level and reached the kitchen for cup of coffee. He swore there was no one when he opened the fridge for a milk, but nearly dropped the carton in surprise when Spy appeared out of nowhere as he closed the door.

"Spah!"  
"I am wearing red, labourer."  
"Apologies. Just a habit."  
Engie muttered a brief admission of faulty alarm and observed the masked man from the corner of his eyes. The slouched posture and a head leaning against the wall was all he could see, but he couldn’t determine if the cause was drowsiness or something else. Guess it’s time for a friendly chat.

"Rise and shine, mister. It ain’t gonna be pretty if you hit the hay during curl ups."  
"Count me out from it."  
Spy had no reason to partake in Soldier’s tedious cycle of stupidity. He stayed up all night to secure enough soaps and hide one laundry machine somewhere in this building. Moving such a weighty machine alone with minimal noise as possible was enough exercise for a day.

"If you have some caffeine you will perk right up… aw shucks, there ain’t no more."  
What else could Spy fuel himself with to force out the insomnia in him? If he wasn’t in a foul mood, the pouting lower lips of Engie would have been entertaining. His head ached from lack of rest and kitchen became a bad place to be alone with people starting to wake up. Spy decided to retreat back to his secret place till the battle at nine.

"Don’t forget to come for the breakfast."  
"Are you the chef?"  
"No, it’s stretch’s turn."  
That was more of a reason for Spy to avoid this place. Spy banged the back door open and hurried out as he heard the name that caused him distress. Engie frowned a little at the sudden dramatic exit but shrugged it off. Another loud bang from the main door to kitchen loosened his grip on the milk for the second time.

"Was Spy here?"  
"He went outta there."  
Sniper dashed to where Engie’s thumb pointed at but looked disappointed when his sharp eyes couldn’t catch what he wanted. As Sniper grumbled in discontent, Engie rolled his brain to deduce all these jittery businesses but he could only guess what’s really going on.

"What’s happening?"  
"The hell if I know."  
Sniper stormed out and bumped into Demo. The low series of growls faded away and Engie was finally left alone in the kitchen. Whatever the shenanigan was, Engie hoped it wouldn’t affect the two men on their jobs in the future. He wasn’t too worried about it since they looked like bickering old couple. When he went outside to join his half-asleep platoon, the skies were growling and filtered the world into tints of grey. He patted Pyro on the shoulder whose head was hanging low at the dimming weather. The depth Pyro’s head dipped usually represented the accuracy of his prediction for a rainy day. Cart moving was going to get messy and muddy for sure.

 

On the roof of the Teufort, there were planks that could be easily lifted which led to a small attic that even Demo was unaware of. Spy has been using this space to its full potential as his private kingdom. It appeared quite organised, but books and files were sorted in covers that didn’t match the content. Spy lay on the stiff wooden floor, rested his head on a German to Français dictionary that was disguised as a bible and lit a strand of his cigarette. As he inhaled the toxin, his throat tingled in mild burning sensation while rest of his body was numb from fatigue. He reflected the talk between him and Sniper after dinner and realised how childish that was. Sniper’s accusations were reasonable to some extent because Spy did admit his playful behaviours, but they weren’t things to be regarded as shallow acts out of lust. Clearly the two men’s idea of a serious relationship were clashing, but who was Sniper to judge ‘genuineness’ when he was the one trapping himself in confusion all the time? Spy flirted and Sniper kissed him while drunk. Spy gladly reciprocated and didn’t go anywhere deeper than oral stimulation because he didn’t want to take an advantage. When he discovered Sniper’s inner conflict regarding to sexual orientation, he helped the man out in the most delicate and logical manner as possible. How can Sniper still be unsure about himself and Spy’s honest intentions?

"Merde."  
A curse slipped out from his already foul oesophagus when he realised the last strand of nicotine was gone. Spy went back to his thoughts and tried to catch a small nap before the match, or his performance might be a lousy one in the battle in three hours. He was going to give both of them some time alone, but it may backfire and leave Sniper thinking that all these were just a charade. Spy had some ideas that may blow away the insecurity in Sniper and prove how he meant real business. If he really wanted this to work, he might as well choose the boldest option because Sniper was an oblivious outback with clumsy communication skills. Was Sniper worth all this trouble? Spy had no obligation whatsoever to Sniper. He could just get laid with someone else and ditch the Mr-hard-to-get, but that probably was the reason why Sniper seemed alluring. The Australian may be the most awkward and frank person he had ever met, but he certainly was different from the usual stupid and boastful sorts that Spy dealt with as his career. Spy was pleased to know how Sniper still wanted to be with Spy even if he was dragged out of his comfort zone, but that alone wasn’t enough to thicken Spy’s running patience. If Sniper couldn’t catch the last opportunity that Spy was going to toss today, then it was Sniper’s loss. Spy was gradually luring into sleep as rain drum rolled against the wooden roof, but the two noisy Americans from downstairs kept him awake.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Tell me this is not true."  
"It’s the direct order from above, private. We follow it, whether you like it or not."  
Heavy shook his head at Scout and Soldier, the adrenalin addicts who were complaining when the Announcer declared a ceasefire. Scout wanted to get messy on the field as he actively ran around in mud and Soldier wanted his daily dosage of ripping guts. Heavy ignored the jabbers and kept on piling sandwiches of different kinds of meat on large plates. Now that he had enough time, the thick fingers delicately moved to fill as many with filling as possible and some sandwiches were particularly saved for his special doctor. It was a second too late to catch a bandaged hand sneaking one of his favoured creation right in front of his eyes.

"These are for lunch, Scout. Breakfast is on table."  
"Porridge that Snipes made? No protein in there, pal."  
"Don’t you dare eat that sandvich."  
Heavy had the urge to teach the sniggering young man a taste of Russian discipline instead of sandwich. Rather than smacking the sports cap off of Scout’s head, Heavy picked up the steel bat and effortless bent it into 90 degrees. Scout had plenty of bats, but Heavy didn’t care that the bat he deformed was the last one of steel kind.

"Augh, really? Was that necessary because the last time I bought something, a sandwich does not equal to my BAT!"  
"You didn’t listen. Finish porridge or next is your tiny gun."  
"Screw you."  
Scout grumbled in defeat, aggressively shoved his share of porridge into his mouth and leered at the back of Heavy who were humming his home song. No one said much on the table because they were too tired to be entertained by Scout’s little misfortune and the rain seemed to dampen the atmosphere. Sniper stalled in the kitchen longer than the usual, hoping to catch even a glimpse of Spy.

"Back to the field, men! We may as well take this day to hone our minds and bodies for the future."  
Sniper should have gone back to his van before Soldier finished his bowl and slammed the table. Who was bonkers enough to go out in the rain and waste more energy?

"Nyet. Need to pick up pork from town. I cook tomorrow, remember?"  
"Same here. It’s impossible to keep you ruffians alive wizhout supplies and equipments."  
"I’ll drive you. Needta pick things up for spag bol tonight."  
Medic and Heavy were already bailing out and Sniper wanted to catch on their drift before Soldier could even object. It would be a hard fit to have a huge body in his van, but it was better than feeling miserably alone in his van and helplessly searching for Spy. Judging from the stains of porridges on the floor, Pyro was already out of the kitchen without cleaning himself. His hate of getting wet was close to being a hydrophobiac. Soldier didn’t chase the child minded man and looked at his other teammates with a stern expression.

"Rest of you ought to have a better excuse to weasel out."  
"Well, it would be better for me to work on new prototypes and finish some blueprints."  
"Och lad, spare me from this. I gottae post some letters to me mum."  
Scout opened his mouth to share his lies, but Soldier blocked his mouth and picked his thin body up. The young Bostonian yelped in pain because his nose was still bruised from the punch from last Saturday.

"That’s the spirit, son. I will personally put some pounds of muscle into your under-developed frame."  
"I said nothing!"  
It was near to the impossible to escape the tough grip that had around his waist. Before Soldier could grab anybody else, the men evacuated from kitchen and left Scout dangling on Soldier’s arm. Pitying the little man, Engie whispered in his lover’s ear and walked away with a soft chuckle.

"What did he say?"  
"None of your business! Out we go."  
Scout hoped the question would distract Soldier and his iron grip but nothing could budge the man of self-absorbed discipline. Engie’s invitation to his workbench could wait after a good hard training.

The silence filled the seemingly empty base and Spy sighed in relief to catch up on the sleep that he missed, but only for a couple of hours due to the horrid noise booming out from the lounge. That’s it. Spy gave up on sleeping and came down from his secret area to see the new source of ruckus. He wasn’t surprised at all to find Demo with his bottle of rum, but the clumsily played bagpipes and Pyro dancing along to them made his head ache. Spy palmed his face at the fact that he was living and working with these clowns. Just as he was about to walk away from the ridiculous pair, bottles of unopened rum behind Demo caught his eyes. If he could take them away, that may sober Demo up and let Spy rest in peace and quiet.

"I dinnae how ye do it, mumbles! Fiddle away like the devil ye are!"  
The blaring disharmony drowned out the creaks Spy made and Pyro was swaying his head back and forth to express his form of art in movement. Sneaking out five bottles all at once was no biggie. His escapade was going well until couple of them in his arms made a tiny clinking noise. With an animalistic instinct and reflex, Pyro dived his body to the floating alcohol and tackled the invisible man. Spy was pinned down on the floor and groaned as his head rung in mild concussion. His heart sunk when the music stopped and Demo staggered toward him.

"Oh ho ho ho you dare steal me rum?"  
"I would die rather than to drink such distasteful liquor."  
No matter how much Spy grunted and struggled, his tired body couldn’t shove Pyro off from his chest. Demo gasped as if he was personally offended and stroked the lying bottles as if he was soothing them from the insult.

"Ye take that back! They have feelings, yennae?"  
"Tell him to get off of me and I might think about it."  
Demo scoffed at the dry promise and thought about the best way to make Spy suffer for what he had said. A brilliant idea clicked as he remembered how fidgety Sniper was earlier in the morning. Black bags under Spy’s eyes grew as he squinted at how Demo was looking down at him with smug expression.

"How aboot ye drink a bottle o’ this and give ye time to judge again?"  
"Oh please. I have endured worse torture than this."  
"Then ye may as well stay till the kangaroo boyo gets here. He has been hunting for ye this morning."  
Spy closed his eyes in brief annoyance and clenched his teeth. It would ruin his plan if he was to see Sniper before dinner. He needed everybody in one place like yesterday night to create the ideal timing situation. He couldn’t afford to get drunk but it would be a challenge to push two bulky males out of the way. As his eyes busily shifted around the room, a strand of hope shone on a bookshelf near by the grandfather clock.

"If you gentlemen must insist, then it would be rude of me to reject your offer. Although I propose a game to spice this up."  
"Mmmmmmes?"  
Demo was suspicious but he complied with Spy’s request and picked up a deck of trump card stuck between books that he have never read. As soon as Pyro let go of Spy, he explained a game of ‘blind man’s bluff’ where each player pick one card and place it on their forehead. Others can see each other’s except his own and they raise bets to win. The winner would have highest card and vice versa. They would normally bet money on such game, but this time it was the number of gulps from Demo’s alcohol and loser would have to gulp the raised numbers.

"Aboout time I see ye pissed off yer face, boyo."  
Demo accepted the game thinking that he had the odds. Pyro was on his side and if they cooperate, Spy could be the only one who doesn’t know his own card. However, the two didn’t realise that they were drunk and no one other than Engie could accurately decipher Pyro’s talks. Spy hid a smirk and shuffled the cards, thinking this was going to be an easy game.


	7. Chapter 7

The storm unleashed its rage and the view of landscape was curtained by dense gashes of flowing rain as strong gusts from the North bellowed. Soldier decided to call it a day when Scout started to sway and crouched on the muddy ground to avoid getting blown away.

"Get up, sissy boy. We are retreating."  
Considering that Scout was in the army, Soldier expected more vigour from his young comrade. He was unaware of how his insane cardio programme and wet weather can drain the energy out of any men. A couple of hours wasn't enough for Soldier's standards, but he wasn't going to be disappointed at how short their second exercise was today. Rome wasn't built in a day and as long as this war tied them together, there will always be other days.

"Fina-freaking-lly."  
Scout was glad to get away from this Spartan treatment. He didn't want his love for the moist smell of ground turning into a phys-ed nightmare and his body was getting sore beyond comprehension. He hurried to the lounge for warmth and an overwhelming aroma of alcohol greeted him. Demo and Pyro were sprawled across on the floor with cards on their forehead, and cigar butts smeared everywhere like messy blotches. Scout half-expected a patronising lecture behind his back, but Soldier was long gone and elsewhere. It was better to not have Soldier in this room because Scout finally found something that would spice up this boring and warless day. He soon was disappointed to find out that all the bottles were empty and no one looked alive even if he poked them. Just as he was about to leave, a firm hand wrapped around his foot and nearly made him trip.

"Ye cannae leave by drinking few baby bottles."  
"Look up, knucklehead."  
A hazy brown eye caught dangling dog tags and a slender face with cocked eyebrows. The game seemed to be in his favour when Spy drank few sips for three turns of Blind Man's bluff in rows, but at some point Pyro became the one who emptied the bottles out. Their team play was ruined when Pyro started to slur his mumbles and got agitated at Demo who couldn't understand a single attempt of communication between them. The last thing Demo could remember was Pyro grabbing the collar of his shirt for an angry head butt and sly grin that Spy didn't hesitate to hide. Demo staggered up and blankly stared at Scout for a while.

"...so cocksure that I had the upper hand. I couldda hawd him till Aussie comes."  
"Um. Right. I gotta go."  
Scout left Demo behind and ran up the stairs to reach the laundry room. He dumped his soggy red t-shirt and brown pants, and planned to sleep the day away in boxers till dinner. As he dragged his feet across the corridor, an idea clicked as he walked past Heavy's room. This could be the only chance in his life time to ever lay a fingertip on that magnificent machine gun. Scout always wanted to experience a speckle of badassery and manliness that Heavy wore exceptionally well on the battle field. His heartbeat pumped heavily as he opened the door and stepped inside the bear's den. The room was cleaner than Scout expected from Heavy, a bulky guy who would ruin anything that he stumbles upon. There were neatly piled scrap papers, old looking fountain pen and a cracked alarm clock on a small desk. A bookshelf with thick Russian literature was right beside a wooden bed with straightened bed linen. This immaculate cleanliness gave the impression of emptiness to Scout and it almost felt eerie. Scout stopped observing the area and stepped in further to find his main tourist attraction. In the far corner of the room, Sasha leaned still against the wall and reflected the faint dim light shining upon it. A sharp thrill and anticipation made a thin layer of cold sweat on his back as he touched the chilly surface of titanium alloy. Scout was overconfident and thought he could lift this gigantic beauty. He soon realised it was a mistake to pull it toward his direction and the machine gun slid through his sweaty hands. With a blinding flash of lightening, the machine gun fell as the thunderclap deafened the loud thump it made on Scout's foot.

"HOLY JEEZ CRAP!"  
It was a miracle that he didn't break a bone but having one and a half tonne of steel pipe brutally landing on part of his body was worse than Soldier's punch. One might think that some sort of omnipotent entity of this universe loves being sadistic to our young Bostonian, but really, all these misfortunes were results of his immature life decisions. Scout rolled on the floor like a squirming worm on concrete in summer days and whined. He didn't want to put any pressure on his foot with the throbbing pain, so putting the fallen machine gun back into the place had to wait. On the fifth attempt to stand up, his heart ran cold and hair rose as the familiar low gruff and weighty footsteps echoed in crescendo beyond the door. If it wasn't because of his sore foot, Scout would have jumped off from the open window. Without much choice given, he crept under the bed and held his nose.

"Vhat kind of pharmacy does not have sample beakers? Zhis town is absolutely baffling."  
"We will ride Engineer's truck to go other place next time."  
The door swung open and Scout saw not one, but two pairs of black boots. Footsteps approached in tangled waltz and stopped right in front of his nose. Scout didn't have a room in his brain to imagine what Medic and Heavy could possibly be doing by being so close to each other. His main concern was on the machine gun that supposed to lean against the wall and wished that Heavy wouldn't notice a difference.

"Oh... Right now?"  
"Da."  
The narrower edged boots tip-toed slightly as they were approached by larger pair. Scout was thankful of Medic distracting Heavy, but curiosity began to push off the nervousness in his heart. He thought of peeking a little by sticking his head out because the swishing noise of fabrics rubbing against each other didn't provide him enough clues.

"Nein, later. I von't disappoint you zhough."  
Medic's voice faded away as his slender ankles walked out of the room. Scout nearly jumped in surprise when the whole bed suddenly creaked as Heavy collapsed on his back. The thick bars supporting the mattress were right above his face and they were bulging out dangerously as if they will snap anytime soon. He could hear Heavy sighing and mumbling something in Russian. The alarm clock clicked as Heavy set it to ring three hours later and the bed coughed in ache as the huge man rustled into more comfortable position for a nap. Thinking that this could be a very good opportunity for him to escape, Scout fought his own drowsiness and pulled his eyelids from conforming to the gravity. He couldn't fight off the tiredness that began from six in the morning and eventually fell asleep in this tedious silence.

.

.

.

Behind the tightly shut garage, two men was sharing a single bed that Engie used to sleep whenever he pulled an all-nighter. They were too occupied to care about the humid air and trapped scent of thick musk in closed space. The continuous squeaking from cheap springs synchronised with ragged breathes from Soldier and Engie as they tightly locked each other's bodies in violent motion. Although Engie didn't complain, he wondered how one kiss from his workbench could lead to a fiery fuck session. Moans began to slip out from his throat without any restraint which roughened Soldier's thrusts.

"…slow down."  
There was no trace of the usual calm and collected tone in the Texan's voice. His whispers were drenched in lust and he gasped in rapid repetition as his whole body rode the pulse that Soldier pushed in. Engie was more than happy to have his rugged man on top of him, but this fast paced rhythm was becoming difficult to keep up with. Moreover, he could feel Soldier's lips on his neck starting to bear sharp edges of teeth. This was one of those dangerous turn-ons and Engie would have let those canines sink into his flesh if they weren't sharing the same building with their comrades. The light-headedness from constant thumping against the wall and orgasm was impairing his judgement, and he truly wanted to mute the murmurs of worries in his head. He didn't want to be bothered by the possible aftermath of having teeth marks on places where his clothes can't cover, but his remaining sanity advised the otherwise. Engie loosened the grasp on the sturdy neck above him and tried his best to pull Soldier off from his slightly punctured skin. The pumps didn't stop but decelerate as Soldier lifted his torso and let their reddened faces be parallel to each other.

"Ah said, you need to slow down."  
Soldier cocked his head as if he couldn't comprehend what Engie had said. All of his attention was focused on how deep he could penetrate his lover. Rather than a verbal response, Soldier's mouth fell on Engie's and went back to pick up the pace. Engie thought Soldier understood him until he felt an acute pressure on his lower lips. He managed to pull his lips out of Soldier who was aggressively horny and continued to maintain the speed and intensity. Engie decided to show how softer touches really works and licked on the protruding collarbone above him.

"…Dell."  
Soldier let out a low growl and ensnared Engie's torso. Before he could find elsewhere to bite on Engie, his back arched as he reached climax and white liquid dripped between them. The man on top collapsed on the muscle cushion and lay limp for a while, neither of them moved in the lingering heat. Their drumming heartbeats loosened the tempo in a rallentando and breathes slowly became stable once again.

"Where did ya learn to be this wild, you son of a beast?"  
"It's not my fault that you taste damn fine."  
Engie chuckled at the serious tone that bore sweet words in it. The stoic mask of Soldier cracked into a smug as he rolled off of Engie. Both stared at the ceiling as their sweaty bodies dried. Having the person of his dreams lying next to him was something of a wondrous fantasy to Soldier. This was all too good to be true and he couldn't help but feel nervous of this happiness that might be taken away in blink of an eye. From the corner of his eyes, Soldier saw gentle fingers rustling his prickly chin.

"You can say that again, partner."  
Engie shifted closer as he touched Soldier's face and smiled warmly. This seemed like a cliché from one of those romantic soap operas, but Soldier would be lying if he didn't feel an unbreakable connection in their eye contact. They beamed at each other in satisfaction until thunderous bangs on the shutter broke the tranquillity. Both men thought pretending to be absent would drive away whoever it was, but staying quiet didn't stop the relentless jabs on the thin steel door.

"Dangnabit. Who is it?"  
"'Tis yer mum who didn't get her bag of wires and fuses ye promised."  
The two lovers jolted up in sense of urgency which made Soldier fall out of bed with loud screech from the mattress. He grumbled in pain but quickly covered his mouth and hoped Demo didn't hear him. They tried to cloth themselves with least noise as possible but the hurried hands were too clumsy to soften noisy clinks from metal bits of their belts. The situation got worse when Soldier forced stubborn black boot into his foot, lost his balance and crashed into scrap junks in the corner. It was a one-man drum gig that Engie cringed to hear and made him anxiously eye on the other audience who stopped knocking.

"What's going oon?"  
"Nuthin'"  
"Tell me I'nnae drunk off my balls and ye have a fecking Lochet Ness moonster in there. Oopen uop or the last of me potassium chlorate is going to be wasted on this bloody hellhole!"  
Demo's warning threatened topless Soldier who couldn't find his shirt and Engie who cursed his short arm that couldn't reach his boxer under the bed.

"Five…"  
It just occurred to Soldier that his white shirt was still wet from the rain which made it was extra difficult to put on. Engie's half bitten neck began to sting as it rubbed against the steely bone of the bed, but no matter how much he tried, his underwear was out of reach.

"Four…"  
Soldier grunted as he pushed the rolled white shirt that refused to cover his bare chest and noticed that Engie was still stark naked with head under the bed and butt poking out.

"Fecking three!"  
Engie finally grabbed his boxer as Soldier lifted the bed up for him. The sight of Mr. Manly-Man exposing his nipples like a stripper would have been humorous if they weren't in such a hurry. Engie was too busy to even have a laugh while he struggled to put on a shirt and an overall without tangling the straps.

"I would've finished two bottles by noow!"  
While one of their hands were busily tending clothes on their bodies, the other scurried to push some windows open and vent out the smell of after-sex.

"Doon't make me count to one."  
"Wait a doggone second!"  
Fearing that this wasn't enough, Engie shoved cigars in their mouth. They puffed out fume of tobacco vigorously as if they were two broken steam engines. Holding his chokes and coughs, Engie thought it was relatively safe to let Demo in until he saw a wet stain on the brown cover sheet of his bed.

"Say 'Hello' tae KA BOOOOM."  
"I'd say 'Howdy'"  
The shutter opened and Engie greeted Demo with shaky grin and cigar poking out in awkward direction. Demo strutted in and saw Soldier tending his rocket launcher with his butt stamped on Engie's vintage single bed. The thick eyebrows below the black beanie squiggled as Demo observed the most obvious abnormalities in this picture.

"What's wit the hat-swap?"  
"We thought it'd be a good change, although Soldier refused to wear mah goggles."  
Demo squinted at Soldier nodding in agreement to what Engie said. Soldier was glad that his eyes were hidden under Engie's helmet because he couldn't hide the uneasiness of moisture under his thighs as he sat on his own ejaculation. However, the grimace was obnoxiously apparent as both Demo and Engie could see the visible frowning curve on Soldier's face.

"I dinnae unnerstan. Is this why ye lot took yer time to oopen uop?"  
"Floor was messy with Soldier's launcher parts and my scraps. You wouldn't be able to step in this far if we didn't clean up."  
Engie answered the interrogation while he rummaged through his drawers to find the requested items. Demo frowned at Soldier who didn't mutter a word because all the questions were actually directed to him. Soldier pretended to be absorbed in maintenance of his weapon, but his hearing detected every little crunches of concrete grains that Demo stepped on as he approached closer to Soldier. With the yellow hardhat limiting his vision, Soldier couldn't see the upcoming danger of Demo's hand slowly rising to snatch the hat away.

"Found it!"  
"Aye, that's the stuff! Thenk ye."  
Instead of the yellow hardhat, Demo caught an orange toolbox that was shoved under his arm.

"Ye keen for a beer later, Soldier?"  
"Negatory. Weekend is far yet to come."  
Demo hardly frowned at the cold answer, checked the contents of the toolbox, and happily walked out. Engie and Soldier sluggishly exhaled the cigar in relief and shared a tiny hi-five clap to celebrate how smooth they handled this situation. Little they knew that Demo came down about five minutes before their love making was finished. He also waited few more minutes to allow them a brief rest. It certainly wasn't a hobby of Demo to eavesdrop on a sex scene, but he didn't want to walk away like last time and die on the battlefield due to lack of bombs. He would prefer to die fully supplied rather than not be prepared and shame the DeGroot's root.

.

.

.

Smell of searing beef wafted through the building and lured Heavy out from his slumber. The room was much darker than he thought it should be. His large paw held the alarm clock that failed to ring at the indicated time. At first, he thought it was broken when he realised the hour needle was way past the time he wanted to wake up at. He soon found out that the alarm dial was found to be off, and that wasn't the only strange changes he noticed in his room. No, it couldn't be! He kicked off the duvet and ran toward his precious baby Sasha that lay cold on the floor. Were there any scratches? Dents in internal engines? Decolouration? There were no physical malfunctions that Heavy could see, but it wasn't main concern that bothered him. There was no way that Heavy would have slept through the very moment when Sasha fell, unless she magically grew a pair of leg and tiptoed herself down gracefully. The last person who was at his room was Medic and he couldn't possibly have knock his machine gun off.

Thinking of Medic right now gave Heavy a tiny heart throb. That brief moment when Medic mildly pushed him away this morning wasn't unusual, but it was hurtful. This wasn't the first time he experienced Medic's hesitant attitude and he perfectly understood the reasons behind these precautions that Medic prioritised over anything. Of course; Heavy was aware of the likely hardships they will face after their retirement. Russia wasn't the friendliest country for non-heterosexuals, and Heavy had his brutal lessons in North Siberian Gulag when he was about Scout's age. He was young, foolish and ignorant of the danger in being openly gay, especially in places like a political labour camp. Being trapped with monsters who thought 'dominance equal to sodomy' was far more exhausting than regular fist fights with local homophobes at his hometown. He never had a day without dose of fresh blood in his mouth as he crushed the skulls of filthy rapists away from him. Unlike those who had their dignity broken multiple times, Heavy fought for the freedom of his expression and held onto the confidence that he had in himself. His identity wasn't a toy to be messed with and nobody had the right to degrade it.

Heavy could empathised with his German, but that couldn't suppress the desire to cuddle in daylight instead of hiding away in the laboratory. Today wasn't the only day where he had to suppress numerous urges to hold Medic's gloveless hand at town and kiss those high cheekbones when they sat close together in Sniper's van. Every aspect of Teufort was exceptionally better than their motherlands, and Heavy wished that Medic would gain some courage and leap out of his old fear. Rather than forcing Medic out of his comfort zone, Heavy wanted to wait hold onto his occasionally wavering patience. He longed for a day to make love on their bed rather than a surgical table and do groceries without minding public eyes.

His stomach rumbled and the aroma of boiled tomato sauce dragged Heavy out of his bed. Sounds of pans clashing rung around the wooden structure of Teufort and the kitchen table was gradually filled with starving mercenaries. The first thing Heavy saw was Soldier bickering how Scout was undisciplined by being topless. He then welcomed Medic who sat by his right and briefly squeezed the smaller hand under the table. Medic nodded and smiled in response.

"Gentlemen."  
Spy glided through the kitchen and sat in front of Medic. From the corner of his eyes, Heavy caught a tiny halt in Medic's fork. This time, Heavy focused his eyes on Spy unlike the last dinner. He was determined to block out idiotic rants from Scout and Demo, and kept his ears open to hear anything that would discomfort Medic's already edgy mind. If this sly French snake was to spit out venoms that poisons his Dove's heart, then he will smash those pesky fangs. No one noticed how antsy Sniper behaved as he sat beside Spy and fidgeted on his dinner.

"Where wer-"  
"Have you finished zhe book?"  
It took more than a second for Spy to register the question because he was still recapping the method of his scheme. He was planning to use Scout, who sat furthest away from him, to reveal his surprise gift for Sniper and a right timing was the key. Not wanting to be rude, Spy decided to keep the conversation short with Medic.

"Non. I will return it to you for sure when I am done with it."  
"Haven't seen you at all-"  
"Are you using it for ozher purpose, zhen?"  
Sniper leered at Medic and made a small frown at the consecutive interruptions. Spy refrained his eyes from rolling in annoyance and checked whether Scout's dish was empty or not. He still had time because the fast runner always had second helping if possible, but the problem came from the fact that Scout was also a fast eater and Medic was a hindrance.

"It would certainly make a good fire starter."  
"Fire starter for vhat?"  
Heavy glared at Spy as if a bomb was about to be detonated between them. Sniper couldn't understand the odd tension in this little circle when Spy's joke seemed to be about burning a thick book to make a bonfire. All he wanted was to have a casual chat with Spy without any disturbance.

"I kid, Docteur. Your book is safe and sound in my room."  
"Zhat's a relief."  
No, it really wasn't. Medic appeared unshaken on the outside but his brain was over-analysing what Spy had said. Spy didn't mean anything in his sarcasm, but Medic interpreted Spy's choice of words in figurative manner and trapped himself in unnecessary anxiety. Fire starter for what? A witch hunt that would rat his relationship with Heavy and burn away their career? While Medic was lost in trail of worries, a brilliant idea struck Spy. Rather than waiting for an opportunity to rile Scout up, he could simply use the same chess piece that sat in from of him. Heavy was alarmed to see a faint smirk snuck on Spy's face.

"As matter of fact, it would be pitiful to destroy such great knowledge. It was particularly helpful to solve a doubt that I had been mulling over. I could give it back you after dinner, but there is a small step that I have yet to overcome."  
"Vhat vould zhat be?"  
"A confession."  
Spy inserted an extra emphasis and volume on his last words. He was showered with attention from three men who were concerned with different reasons. Medic was slightly hyperventilating, Heavy bent his fork in half-fold and Sniper kicked slender pair of legs on his left. Spy winced but didn't lose the smile.

"I have come to conclusion that-"  
"Nein, stop. I suggest zhat ve converse in somevhere private."  
If Spy was going to publically drag his love life out of the closet, Medic thought it would be better to leave Heavy out of this. A sense of defeat crept on his heart that sunk deep into despair, but the guilt of dragging Heavy down with him would be an eternal curse. Spy frowned slightly at the unpredicted reaction from Medic and questioned whether he had been too obvious.

"Excuse me monsieur, but I am simply trying to announce that I-"  
"Listen to Doktor and we leave now."  
A gigantic hand clawed collar of the well-ironed white button down shirt. Spy was perplexed by the resistance from Heavy and Medic without any apparent reasons that he could think of. Sniper and Medic gazed at his teammates and winced at the unwanted attentions. The chatter between Engie and Soldier paused and Scout leaned in to get better view of the ruckus. Pyro tuned into the conversation between the two support classes long ago when he heard the word 'fire', and now his arms were high in the air as he saw an upcoming brawl.

"This is no way to ask for a private conversation. Release me."  
"I don't need manner for you. You are no gentleman. You trick and manipulate like coward."  
Spy flinched at the aggressive confrontation that stung sharp. There were no words to deny the truth and images he had built for his career. He was once proud of being portrayed as a liar, but he now hated it as it became the very obstacle that stood between him and Sniper. Tonight was the first attempt to break it away and he was already failing.

"This is your last warning. If you want to play savage, then I will do so."  
"Your call, snake."  
Feeling like giving up, Spy readied to twist the thick wrist and retreat back to his secret attic where he could hide away like the title that Heavy called him.

"Oi! He said to bloody let go!"  
Medic feared that the chaos was already at its peak, but Sniper proved Medic wrong as he punched Heavy in the eye. The rudeness infuriated Sniper and made him forget that he also dreaded to hear whatever Spy was about to confess. Despite how Sniper hated to be the centre of attention, he couldn't bear to see the Frenchman humiliated in such fashion. Spy was the biggest slime ball that Sniper had ever met, but that's what made Spy a professional. Why was it hard for people to understand that some jobs were dirtier than others?

Sniper had no idea that this one single action of taking on Spy's side would change their stagnant relationship. Spy straightened his shirt out and regained the nonchalant smile. He scoped his audiences as if he was a soloist on a royal stage and coughed pretentiously as he loosened the buttons on his neck.

"Pardon the delay and allow me to continue. It seemed like monsieur Heavy was confused, but I forgive his dull wits that comes from aging. I only wanted to thank the book that docteur let me borrow. Because of it, I now can announce myself as a bisexual."  
"What, like, do you beat off from bicycle magazine?"  
Not a single soul replied to Scout who wasn't even joking. Most of the grown men were utterly taken aback to witness the ever so secretive Spy coming out of closet. This unforeseen courage filled some men's heart with admiration, jealousy or mixture of both.

"What is the meaning of this?"  
"It is the most honest statement that I can make with you gentlemen as a comrade; that I am capable of being open, true and genuine, unlike some of you assume."  
Heavy blushed at the answer that Spy gave to Soldier. Spy was pleased with the overall impact that he delivered, but the way Sniper hung his head low was bit of an eyesore. Without further ado, Spy slithered across the table and grabbed the handle of the backdoor that lead to outside.

"You have one week."  
The dramatic exit shattered the tension and caused a ripple amongst mercenaries. Scout and Demo argued the real definition of bisexuality while Heavy and Medic shook their heads in shame. Engie was long gone to follow after Soldier who stormed out of the kitchen as soon as Spy was out of sight. Pyro was ecstatic to finish these abandoned spaghetti and sprinkled as much cheese on each plate. Everybody was in motion other than the certain Australian who didn't move a muscle. Spy's cryptic outro almost felt like a leash that pulled Sniper into a mine field of thousand emotions. He wasn't sure if he could survive a week in such crazy place with his mind intact when he already felt numb from shock and awe.

[Heavy's Gulag reference is from the actual comic from Valve]


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry that it took this long to write the new chapter! Had work and few other things.

Thank you for your patience, especially inspectorpineapple who bothered to read my drafts again and again :)  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The opaque darkness of a rainy night engulfed Teufort wholly. The perks of living in the middle of nowhere was that anyone could run to their heart’s content without embarrassing themselves much. Maybe that’s why Soldier dashed across the muddy field to outrun his overwhelming emotions that pounded his brain into an ugly pulp. If he stayed in the kitchen, it would have been Spy’s face that he would have pounded even if he admired the Frenchman’s courage. The aggressive American needed a space to unleash his hideous monster without shaming himself in front of his colleagues, but in reality, the creature was already out, awaiting Soldier to run further into its mouth.

“…it!”  
He was a professional mercenary, for god’s sake. How could he amount anything when he swayed so damn easy like a willow? Running away was what boys do and Soldier was a fucking grown man. That’s right, a man who fucked another man but hides it away like a disgraceful coward. All he learnt as a child was that buying flowers and doing things for women were what nancy maggots do, so imagine what his father would have said about a man who openly shows his affection to another man.

“…dier!”  
Did Soldier want Engie out of lust? He didn’t want to admit the times when Engie’s well-toned arms caught his attention at open bay showers. If he could, Soldier would have gawked at the hard jawline dripping sweat and blood during the summer battles. However, the thoughts and adorations for the Texan did also root deep into Soldier’s mind. The discomfort he felt was no illusion whenever he saw Engie’s limp figure picking up broken pieces of building or backstabbed by the enemy Spy. Soldier was aware that all dead rose again through respawn system, and Engie came back good as new with his relaxed smile which eased his war spirit for just a fraction of a second. Many nights of passionate chat about ‘which calibre of bullets to install in sentry guns’ flew past Soldier’s brain. If this wasn’t something close to love, then what was it?

“…ait, will ya?”  
Regarding Spy as the least manly out of all, Soldier was shocked to beyond that the man with skinnier body had more balls than him. Spy embraced his identity and gave zero fucks about what other people may think of him, which made Soldier jealous to the core. He was ashamed that he couldn’t break out of the mould that his past created because he knew that everything he felt was not a sinful or meaningless act. He just couldn’t help but feeling so wrong, trapped and frustrated without any clear reasons. When did he become such a pathetic ‘man’ who couldn’t handle being himself as a gay man?

“Solider!”  
Engie would be devastated if he knew that Soldier doubted their recent relationship, but he couldn’t help thinking that everything would have been simpler if they hadn’t started… No, he shouldn’t blame his insecurities on someone who understood and patiently waited for him. Soldier began to hate his petty self and inability to be brave. Rather than suffocating in these recurring thoughts, he preferred to drown in the rain.

“JANE!”  
Soldier stopped and looked behind. Was that Engie’s voice or his imagination? The thick splashes of rain must be manipulating his hearing because there was no way that the stockier man could have followed his speed. Much to his horror and delight, Soldier saw a faint bulb of yellow flashlight bobbing toward him. He didn’t want say something regretful to someone who cared to follow him out, and yet he wanted to rant it all out.

“Where the heck are ya off to?”  
“Nowhere.”  
Engie shook his breath and cursed his weak cardio strength. He wanted to approach Soldier who was obviously riled up, but Soldier was already leaning backward. It almost felt like being in front of a frightened stag; one hasty move would either make him ram you or sprint away again.

“Y’all right?”  
“Yes.”  
As Engie stepped forward, Soldier pushed his helmet down as if he tried to conceal his entire face and stepped back. This was the exact reason why Engie didn’t make the first move when he noticed their mutual interest. He feared that any sort of words or moves that challenged Soldier’s identity and self-esteem would result in something of this nature, which was worse than he imagined.

“Come on. Ya know that ain’t true in the slightest. If this is because of what Spah said…”  
“NAY! You are wrong.”  
Looks like he pressed the wrong button. It saddened Engie to witness such a defensive attitude but he didn’t want give up just yet. Engie wanted to sort this insecurity issue out, ensure that there is nothing wrong with Soldier and save this relationship. The strong gust harshly whipped raindrops across their faces and torch in his hand began to flicker. Feeling that they should move to somewhere that has light, Engie reached out to grab the bare shoulder but it was thwarted back.

“You are being silly now. Let’s get back inside an…”  
“SILLY? So you think I am useless and sorry excuse for a man as well?”  
Even though Soldier was aware of where this conversation was going, he couldn’t stop the flood of anger that had already started to rush through him.

“That is not what Ah’m sayin’. Calm down.”  
“Then what did you mean? That I am more of a milksop than Spy? That I act like a brainless buffoon unlike you smarty-pants? You should be thankful that I ‘calmed down’ and didn’t bash that son of a gun’s head for being so shamefully open.”  
Just as Soldier worried, he was throwing all this rubbish that he didn’t even mean from the depths of his soul. He felt every single cell in his body rising up in panic and frustration as Engie’s dumbstruck face began to harden.

“Now wait a minute, mister.”  
“Wait? If you are going to wait till I magically become a rainbow unicorn, then you are wasting your time. Why don’t you give up on me, go after that pansy Judas and stop all this dishonouring?”  
As soon as Soldier finished his sentence, his skull banged against Engie’s yellow glove. Soldier swayed due to the unexpected blow and rainy ground was making it difficult to balance himself from the impact. He would have fallen on puddle of dirty sand if Engie didn’t catch the collar of his shirt.

“What are ya tryin’ to say, Soldier?”  
Soldier curled his hands into a hard fist for an instinctive retaliation but couldn’t bring himself to continue the violence between them. It wasn’t the question or the pair of sorrowful eyes dripping rainwater that helped him to regain his sanity, but the lips that trembled as if Engie was holding down his own pain. He would never forgive himself if he punched them and made Engie bleed for real.

“Ya don’t know what ya’re talking about. Don’t ya dare to talk to me unless ya’re hundred percent sure.”  
Explosion of cold water slapped on his back as Soldier was dropped on the ground. He desperately wanted to chase the fading footsteps but his body refused to move as if the gravity pinned him down and the water sucked his energy out. Out of many defeats he experienced, this had to be the worst one so far. He lost against himself and ended up hurting the person he fought for. There was a second chance but would he not fuck it up again? Not with the mentality that he has now, no. It will continue to hinder anything that happens between them, but no matter how much he wanted to fix himself, Soldier didn’t know how. He only knew how to destroy, not to mend.

.

.

.

The sun finally reclaimed its blue domain after two more days of damp hurricanes. Almost every one of the RED team began to appear sloppier day by day, except our lovable gas mask man Pyro. The fire devil danced at the spotless sky, and the sun that he dearly missed was shining upon him.

“Pssst. Hey, Pyro.”  
Pyro intended to twirl into the locker room till Scout nudges his ribs and pointed at their gloomy comrades. Blue-eyed Heavy and Medic were whispering while glancing at Spy, and Engie was turning his back on Soldier who shone his cannon more than enough already. Sniper and Spy sat apart from each other as well, but their necks were twitching as if something was forcing them to hold their heads in place. It really wasn’t his business, but Scout was wary of this constant melancholy from the drama that Spy caused. Seriously! Was this all because of Spy denouncing his love for things like Harley-Davidsons? He glanced at the drowsy Demo who had been saying some weird shit like Spy loves BOTH men and women, but that idea didn’t seem understandable to Scout. A bloke can be either a fa… he meant gay, or normal. There could be no in between, or Spy would be triple-sinning like his Ma would say. Scout imagined Spy with a trident, devil tail and blazing fire in the background that seemed too realistic. Wait, the Frenchman was really engulfed in flame…

“Labourer, I think your ‘son’ is broken again.”  
“Py, it’s too early for a spy che- darn! Control yourself. You can burn as many BLUs out there.”  
“Mmmmut mmmmi mmmmeed mmmo mmmmreak mmmhe mmmmice!”  
Pyro wriggled out of Engie and continued to trigger his flamethrower around the room. No one understood that Pyro wanted to burn thick glaciers that separated people from each other and make everybody happy. Pyro believed that he saw ice blocks and it was his job to melt them down to brighten up the mood. Since people were aware of Pyro’s delirium and how his fire can do no harm to his own teammates, they didn’t bother to stop him twice more. Leaving his sad chumps aside, Scout bolted out as soon as the door opened because he was eager to taste the victory that he hasn’t tasted in a while. Today was Friday and he wanted to end the week in good taste. He even drank extra two cans of Bonk! to guarantee his best performance.

The first half of the fight for intelligence was not in RED’s favour. The enemy didn’t seem to stop flood in with their artillery and no one moved or pulled their trigger fast enough to shoot down the BLU Scout from advancing. Their overall teamwork was sloppy and it was already two to nil on the intelligence hunt. On his thirteenth death, Scout leaned against the locker wall and grabbed his stomach in nausea from drinking too much sugar. Just as he closed his eyes to regain his wavering focus, he heard a knock on the glassy door. It was his counterpart smirking in cocky confidence.

“Rage quittin’ yet? You and your grandmas should hit the hay and go back to the kitchen.”  
“That’s what your dad did with your mom!”  
Scout was too late to bounce off from the wall and chase the blue uniform that hid into the silvery tunnel of the air duct.

“Three days in a row, slowpoke! Better step it up. Oh wait, you are too diabetic to do that.”  
“SHUT UP!”  
He followed the echoing snigger and clenched his faithful scattergun.

“Hey, at least I won’t be a loser whose girlfriends are his hands.”  
[Alert! The enemy has taken our intelligence]  
“Un-freaking-believable.”  
He stared at the speaker that narrated dry voice of a middle aged woman. Hopes of winning drained out of his mind but he couldn’t just give up yet. He still had this son of a yankee BLU Scout to kill in front of him.

“This isn’t ove- what?”  
“Oui, it is.”  
Scout blamed himself for taking his eyes off from the enemy as he felt a sharp pain from his spine cord on back of his neck. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was Announcer’s unimpressed shout and hiss of flamethrower hovering over him.

.

.

.

There were no words of encouragements or open bellows of blaming each other of their defeat. This unusual silence was smouldering the chatterbox Scout who was infused with the effect of massive amounts of caffeine. The general atmosphere had been nothing but flat and boring, which wasn’t Scout’s element to endure at all. He really wanted to whine to Engie about the taunt he heard from BLU Spy and many other things. The smart Texan usually listened to almost anything that Scout rambled on and he seemed to have solution most of the time. It was almost painful to sit around on the couch with hard-faced Soldier who were tending his rocket launcher rather aggressively. If he weren’t waiting for Engie to come out, Scout would have left sulky Soldier’s side and annoy Demo instead. His mind had a flutter of excitement when the doorknob creaked, but it was only Pyro with empty plate that had bits of breadcrumbs. The gask-mask face hollowly stared at the two Americans then sort of jogged away from them.

“Yo, mumbles. Is Engie finished with tinkerin’? He’s been holed up in there for far too long.”  
Scout scurried with Pyro into the kitchen, not noticing Soldier on his tail and Sniper on the dining table. He was busily writing something with unbreakable concentration and surrounded by scent of strong coffee. One could guess how much he had been drinking by counting the number of brown stains on the white mug that was once clean.

“Mmmmengie mmmaid mmmo mmmmne mmman mmmone mmmin.”  
“He said what?”  
Pyro rolled his neck in exaggerated derision and pointed at Scout, Soldier and Sniper. Then he drew a big circle with both of his arms that indicated ‘everybody’ and made a negative cross. Scout had to double take on Sniper and wondered why he failed to notice the lankier male before.

“Maggot. How can you get in, then?”  
“Mmmmecause mmmngie mmmis mmmy mmmest mmmmriend.”  
As both Soldier and Scout were dumbstruck to hear Pyro talking about normal human matters like friendship, Pyro finished making second pile of sandwiches with spaghetti fillings from last night’s dinner.

“Lies! I am his best friend as well.”  
“Mmmo. Mmmou mmmurt mmmmngie.”  
“What are you saying? Take off your mask, Smokey Joe!”  
Feeling like this conversation was getting nowhere, Scout left Soldier to wrestle with Pyro and directed his attention to Sniper whose eyebrows bore deep crevices of seriousness, as if he was writing an exceptionally complex essay.

“Snipes. What’s up?”  
“None of your business.”  
“Whoa, that’s harsh. Just wanted to talk, you know?”  
“Call your mum, then. I’m busy.”  
Scout mouthed the last sentence he heard in mockery and pulled out a tongue, but it wasn’t fun when Sniper was simply ignoring him. Maybe Scout should teach Sniper some manners by stealing the guy’s hat. The mischievous young man snuck behind Sniper for the heist, then a devious idea sprawled out from his brain when he saw the white paper drenched in scribbles of blue ink.

“Fine. I will see your stingy ass later… or not!”  
“Bugger!”  
Sniper cursed at how slow he was compared to Scout as he failed to grab the hand that shot past behind of his head. He regretted leaving his faithful kukri in his van and wondered if Medic wouldn’t mind healing an insolent Bostonian cub with a ball-point pen planted in its dirty paw.

“What’s this? ‘…every action and word from you leaves me paralysed. I don’t know what to say or do but I would like to get to know you, and let you in my van for good times. It’s hard to talk to you face to face about how I really feel-’ Are ya writing love letters? Oh, this is better than I thought. Snipes got a shee-lah!”  
“Bloody nosy cunt.”  
Scout would have read out loud more and entertain Soldier and Pyro if Sniper didn’t rip the letter off of his hands. Sniper wanted to leave this hole of embarrassment in an instant if hyper Scout wasn’t blocking the exit by running around like a rabid dog. The way Scout’s grin spread wider in triumph pulled the corner of Sniper’s lips down. Scout wasn’t about to lose this opportunity to burn all the energy out of him.

“Don’t be too sad, old man. How about I give you an advice on your lady issue? Plus, we won’t tell the others. That’s more than a fair deal, right?”  
“Nah. Hand over the other piece.”  
“Yoink! Nope.”  
Soldier nodding in agreement didn’t comfort Sniper who were shaking his head in distrust. Pyro would have stayed and cheered on Scout harassing Sniper by stealing his piece of paper, but he wasn’t dumb enough to not make an escape when Soldier’s attention was diverted to the piece of tattered letter floating between growling Sniper and gloating Scout. His rubbery hands tried their best not to drop any food off from the plate as he tip-toed down the stairs and knock on the steely sliding door.

“Yeah?”  
“Mmmme!”  
With a rusty squeak of metal chains levering the slide open, a face smeared with oil and dust poked out of the gap and greeted Pyro.

“Cheers.”  
Engie thanked his comrade and pushed scrapes of parts off to make a room for soggy sandwiches. He faintly smiled at Pyro, busily searched for a pencil to check his calculation for the ninth time and hoped to not spot any mistakes this time. As a field Engineer who was in an on-going war, it was unacceptable of him to screw up on each equations and anything he manufactures.

“Will ya pass me the eraser?”  
If he could rub out dusty cloud in his mind, Engie would gladly do so. Considering that him and Soldier had couple of good nights together, this whole mess seemed immature to Engie. Trivial matters like silly love business wasn’t going to ruin his pride in his occupation. His job was to make himself useful to the team by adding more guns to his sentry, wasn’t it? Engie always thought it was a stupid man’s deed to mix work and personal life, but the memory of rainy night made him rethink his life values. Hating his own incapability to kick Soldier out of his brain didn’t change the nature of the past. He knew that moping in frustration certainly didn’t guarantee an improvement of this situation. Engie gave Soldier a chance to sort his sorry-ass out and he just needed to wait for an outcome, regardless of it being better or worse.

“Mmmmngie?”  
It took couple of seconds for Engie to realise that he had been clawing the paper under his right hand with eraser. If Pyro didn’t shove a fresh page on his face, Engie would have wipe out the colour of his wooden table. Engie refrained the tension in his hand and let go of half-broken eraser. A deep sigh leaked out of his throat that felt like stifled from many words that remained unspoken.

“Aw, heck.”  
Engie groaned and scratched his chin. It was futile to convince himself that all these repetition of fixing and pulling machines apart wasn’t a pathetic coping mechanism to reduce his stress. Trapping himself in the den of broken machine parts wasn’t definitely healthy, but he wasn’t confident about keeping his cool if he saw Soldier outside of the battlefield. Engie truly wished this relationship to work so he decided to give Soldier and himself some time to think. Despite of how much he was itching to kiss and knock few teeth out of Soldier, refraining himself from leaping out of this room seemed to be the best resolution for now. The last thing he wanted to do was letting Soldier crack his guard down without a proper apology.

.

.

.

The short arm of the grandfather clock being pulled toward nine shook mildly when a blunt banging noise reverberated across the corridor. If Demo was a second too late to catch a freshly made sticky bomb falling off from his desk, half of his room might have disappeared in one breath. He was aware of Soldier’s aggravating temper ever since Engie became a hermit for the past five days, so this eruption of violence wasn’t much of a surprise. Demo was about to let his curiosity slip out until he heard another sound of thrashing across the wall that he was facing. That’s it. Soldier wasn’t going to ruin anyone’s Sunday night. Without sparing any manner, Demo swung open the door to his patriot friend’s room.

“For the love of me God, what’s that racket?”  
“SCREAMING EAGLES!”  
Demo could feel his lungs winding up when Soldier rammed into his chest, grabbed his forehead and chin. He was thankful for these rare moments of soberness that allowed him to push off the crazy hothead, but pulling off the strangling hands that were ready to neck-snap wasn’t an easy feat.

“Oh. Hello, Demoman.”  
“Hello? Hello to yer fecking self. What are ye up tae?”  
Just as Demo thought that he was free from senseless brute force, Soldier dragged him into the lake of scrunched up papers that could even make stoned hippies weep for all those wasted trees. The way Soldier slammed the door closed in grim expression alerted Demo. What business could possibly trouble this silly child-man and make him bear such mature wrinkles of worry on the corners of his lips?

“This is the direst situation of my life. You shall help me and I expect a full cooperation from you.”  
“Hav- have ye been writing?”  
All these balls of fibres that were once immaculate and clean became grey with ruthless streaks of pencil marks. Squinting his eye, Demo dared to pick one of the scrunched balls of paper that lay beneath their feet. He was soon interrupted by Soldier who pushed him down on a chair that still felt warm. Before he could make another question that may not be answered, a leaflet from an un-ruined notepad was punched into his hands.

“Read.”  
“Hawld yer horses-”  
“READ.”  
“Alright, alright.”  
Demo grumbled at the foul and rash treatment. He underestimated how much of an abrupt crack fire that Soldier was. Not wanting to draw out more random behaviour from Soldier, Demo glanced down on the terrible scribbles under the dim light. Unfortunately, the man who learned how to use variety of weapons and arms lacked the necessary level of literacy. It took all of Demo’s focus and concentration to detect some recurring theme such as ‘misteak’, ‘undieing hart’ and ‘hundred heads as bookay’.

“Who are ye jotting this tae?”  
“You shall not question anything! It’s classified as TOP secret.”  
“Cummoan. I cannae help ye with yer shite writing if I doon’t know who this is tae.”  
Demo never bothered to study English back in his orphan years, but he could easily tell that Soldier’s writing skill was appalling. Considering that Soldier values the enemy heads as his precious war souvenir, the message that Soldier was trying to get across sounded somewhat endearing. He wasn’t sure how much he could help, but he thought two dumb heads could help out the unlucky recipient. His calm right eye followed the back of red jacket that rocked back and forth. Soldier clutched his helmet tightly and slowly turned toward Demo who cocked his eyebrows.

“If you insist, I shall tell you. But you must keep this between us or you will become the traitor of the REDs.”  
“Aye, what is it?”  
“Are you sitting down? Because this is a ground breaking news, private. Considering our time spent together as friends, you might not be able to handle it.”  
“Doon’t tell me that ye’ve gone half-blind too. I’m right in front of ye.”  
Demo endured several of these repetitive questions of whether he was ready to hear the shocking news that supposedly could make him soil his pants like a two year old. The night was getting deeper and Demo was already tiring for a fresh bottle of scrumpy.

“You shouldn’t be drunk for this. It would be a shame if you vomi-”  
“Bloody fecking hell, Jane. Quit treating me like yer mum at a retirement hoouse and spit it out.”  
Soldier stopped wandering around and fixed his hard gaze, one that could pierce through Demo’s eye patch. Air ceased to flow between them as they were bound in a weird stare down that neither of them dared to break. Demo braced himself to hear something that his fearless friend warned so much about. Soldier, the man who could never be associated with the word ‘careful’, was actually using his brain power to consider his decision. Both of them were waiting for different reasons, but also the right timing.

“Go oon.”  
“…ie.”  
“Whut?”  
“I am in a homosexual affair with Engineer.”  
As the job name of their colleague seeped out from Soldier’s gritted mouth, Demo held his inner laughter down and awkwardly gasped to act like he heard this for the first time. To maintain his image as a forgetful alcoholic, Demo never talked about the confessions that two men made to him or the sex-noise that he unintentionally eavesdropped on.

“I made him angry and he is a book smart, so I thought a letter would do it.”  
“That old soul is mad? Ye must be a special sorta baheid.”  
Demo unleashed his held down guffaw despite of being pushed off of the chair when Soldier gave him a strong shove.

“Stop laughing. Are you mocking my relationship?”  
“I doon’t give a shite about who ye loove. Ye doon’t piss me off, so ye are fine on me book.”  
“What about the other maggots?”  
This deja-vu tracked Demo’s memory back to that drunken night when Soldier bluntly asked about homosexuality.

“Tell those dunderheids to feck off if they are gonnae judge ye before fighting with ye. They doon’t knoow a man’s worth. A real man’s worth.”  
“Yeah, that’s right. There is nothing wrong with me. Good answer, soldier.”  
A strange kind of pride swelled in his heart when Demo heard confidence in Soldier’s voice, but what Demo didn’t realise was that it was none other than him who had been cracking the closet that Soldier was too afraid to come out of.

“So. Here’s what ye need tae write.  
‘Roses are us, violets are them fecking idiots.  
I’ve done you wrong and I am sorry,  
so let me foock ye all night long and let us be happy.’”  
“Roses are…”  
“Ach, no. Doon’t actually write that!”  
If the story of these two was a sit-com, Demo thought himself as a director cackling behind the camera, a sort of guide for the lost and stupid actors, such as this poor man whose eyes were unspoilt from any form of romantic adaptation. The problem was that Demo wasn’t much of an expert either.


	9. Chapter 9

[Welp, here we go. The last chapter of the series! With all my heart, I truly thank inspectorpineapple who shared this awesome journey with me by proofreading them :D]

 

Other than the faint light from the wooden building of the RED base, the camper van was another source of radiation that squeezed through the suffocating Friday desert night. It was barely audible, but a familiar melody of an Edith Piaf sang along with the crickets. Sniper lay still with his long legs stretched stiff across the table. He recounted the little incident between him and Scout and cursed at how slow he was compared to the youngster. It truly was embarrassing to let anyone catch a glimpse of his tender side, but the bandaged hand that shot past behind his head was too damn fast. As he closed his eyes, his brain took a time slip back to a few hours ago in the kitchen.

.

"Don't be too sad, old man. How about I give you some advice on your lady issue? Plus, we won't tell the others. That's more than a fair deal, right?"  
The ever-so annoying and corny voice wasn't pleasant to remember at all. Besides, who said that his problem was because of a lady instead of a gentleman?

"Nah. Hand over the other paper."  
"Yoink! Nope."  
He regretted leaving his faithful kukri in his van and wondered if Medic wouldn't mind healing this insolent Bostonian cub with a ball-point pen planted into his dirty paw. Even if these people didn't know the full story behind his business with Spy, it still felt like an invasion of his personal life. Sniper began to worry when he noticed Soldier eyeing out the unread half of the letter. He was relieved that Pyro left the kitchen, but fending off two men working as offensive unit would still be a nightmare.

"Fine. Let's hear your bloody advice."  
Feeling like diverting the tension, Sniper backed down a bit and hid the torn letter by holding his arms. He nearly snapped his pen in half in frustration when Scout roughly pushed him down on a chair.

"Okay, so this is what my brothers do to get gals. Writing letters? Yeah, that works with college chicks. But Instead of writing some boring poem, Jack and Steve used rip their shirts off after every game of football. ALL gals love muscles."  
That explained a lot about Scout's eagerness to flex his biceps whenever a woman walked by in town. Sniper wasn't too stupid to tell Scout the real identity of his 'sheila', but he may as well make this torture less dull.

"She… is an adult with a professional job, not some brainless ewe that prances after big horns."  
"What's yoo? But anyway, if she works then buy her something that she will use. Elliot went out with this nerdy chick and he bought her an expensive calculator."  
Unlike Sniper who grew up alone and had to learn about romance through awkward mistakes, Scout had quite bit of a knowledge around ladies. That was irrelevant though when it came to his ability to find an actual date, but it seemed Scout was confident in his knowledge that was passed down from his seven older brothers. Sniper was a foul audience, but it was better than having no one to babble to.

"Roight, but one good present can't be a magic spell?"  
"Psh. It worked for him, ya know? She's a hot babe too. You can try what Stan did; he snuck out in the middle of the night…"  
Sniper tried to hide his sullen attitude being converted into an engaged intrigue as Scout boasted about all the different ways that his siblings got on with 'gals'. Sensing that Soldier was also attending to his great lecture, Scout's tone of voice elevated as he continued narrate everything that he heard and peeped from his household and old school.

"So these women from college. Did all of them get doctorates? Eleven PhDs?"  
That question was out of blue, but Soldier looked like he was about to pulverise Scout if he didn't hear a satisfying answer.

"Huh? I don't know. All I know is that brainy gals blushes over bits of flowers and envelopes. Hey, maybe I should do that to Ms Pauling…"

.

Sniper couldn't remember anything Scout said, mainly because his interest faded away as soon as the young woman was mentioned. He turned off the radio that hummed mindless static noise and recapped the essential points from what Scout had said. Even though he read a fair amount of books, writing something romantic hadn't seemed to have worked so far. He spent almost two full days on that letter which Scout mutilated. Was Sniper going to pursue restoring the torn drafts? Nah, he was getting fed up with staring dirty scribbles. Shall he show off his lean torso, then? Yeah, right. Like that's going to work with someone like Spy who might have seen better and sexier bodies. Besides, that was hardly a good way to express anything thoughtful, rather just some silly boyhood lust.

The idea of a work-related gift sounded more appropriate to Spy who took pride in his occupation, but then the company already provides the needed weapons and devices. Spy appeared to be prepared with everything he needed, so it was difficult to imagine something that he may not have. Sure, he could play it off by buying pricey wine and dinner because that is what a fancy pant like Spy might love, but it sounded like a cheap effort. Spy gave him his trust by coming out of the closet and Sniper felt like he should return that trust. He may not have the guts to reveal his sexual identity, but Sniper was determined to give something that was equally as meaningful. He just had to think harder and possibly drive to every town in the area this weekend and find something suitable. Surely, he should be able to manage something in four days before the promised Tuesday arrives.

.

.

.

Heavy's eyes shot open when the navy pre-dawn of Monday still embraced the stark darkness. The hour-hand of clock barely touched the number four. It wasn't an odd habit to wake up in such abrupt hour if they wanted to sneak back into their own room without being caught. However, this occasion was different. Heavy forced himself to stay awake the whole night to run a personal errand before Soldier barged into their rooms for 0600 morning exercise. Just as he rose to get out of the bed, he carefully maneuverered over his lover, who stirred in his arms and groaned in slumber.

"Shh. Heavy will be back."  
Since yesterday night, Heavy stayed in Medic's room which was the furthest away from Soldier's. No one knew what Demo and Soldier were doing behind the locked door, but occasional thrashing and heated arguments broke out. Heavy wasn't in a position to complain when he loved cuddling with his doctor. Medic wasn't worried about the early visit because Engie hardly left the garage: Pyro followed Engie; and Scout was busy fiddling with a thesaurus; Spy had his own place elsewhere so they rarely ran into each other in the corridor; and Sniper's van wasn't around.

Everything was in Medic's favour to secure the safety of their relationship and Heavy obliged to this secrecy until recently. Ever since this relationship bloomed, Heavy considered writing to his family about him and Medic, but he waited for Medic to be more open about the two of them. He honestly thought the edge of Medic's paranoia would be weathered down by the time of their retirement and hoped to live in Germany where Medic could continue his job as a physician. Heavy then realised that the depth of fear was much more severe in his German doctor's nerves, and it was starting to rub onto him. The incident between him and Spy would have gone better if Heavy kept his cool, but he ended up initiating the fight and attracted all the attention from his colleagues. At this rate, living in Germany sounded like another Gulag brawl, which was something that he refused to repeat. Even though he felt guilty, Heavy decided not to tell Medic about the letter that he was going to send this morning. He never hid his homosexuality away from his family, so proposing to bring another gay man in the house shouldn't be a big deal. After all, his aged mother needed an excellent doctor.

He couldn't estimate how far the nearest village was from their base, but he was sure that post offices don't open on Sundays. Morning in middle of nowhere was refreshing compared to Siberia so he didn't bother to change his night clothes. Heavy stroked the bare skin on his head and lightly jogged towards the main road. Just as he pushed aside the disguised fabric that hid the entrance to the RED base, Heavy heard a motor whirring in front him. A pair of artificial lights momentarily blinded him and he was knocked back by few meters.

"Bloody hell. Did I hit a buck or what?"  
A familiar low-toned grumble caught Heavy who lay flat on the dusty road. Due to his protruding 'ab-muscles', he was unharmed from the light push of the camper van but seeing Sniper didn't improve his mood. The two men avoided each other ever since Heavy's right eye made him resemble half of a panda and it was Sniper who helped. Before Sniper could walk closer, Heavy hopped up and patted away the dirt on his pajama. The two men scanned each other without making any eye contact to assess this strange situation.

"What in the wor-"  
"Where did you-"  
The collided words immediately shut both of the mouths. Their eyes wondered aimlessly around the environment and glided over the opposites' awkward faces. Heavy observed Sniper with a bit more focus and found out that the man was casually clothed in white t-shirt and the usual coffee pants.

"Where did you come from?"  
"Places."  
Sniper curtly answered Heavy's question and scratched his chin.

"What in the world are you doing out here?"  
"Uh, things."  
Heavy couldn't answer as smoothly as Sniper, but he managed to reply. Lying wasn't his expertise but he could divert the truth away.

"All right, then. I guess I will move along."  
"Da."  
There were so many questions they wanted to ask to each other, but none of them were planning to reveal their own secret agenda. Checking that Sniper got back onto the vehicle, Heavy crossed the road and continued to jog toward the mail post.

"Need a ride?"  
"Nyet. Heavy is fine."  
Watching a giant man with brown soil all over his behind looked absolutely ridiculous. Anyone could almost mistake Heavy as a polar bear with an uncontrollable diarrhoea and Sniper knew that there were some trucks driving past this area. He really couldn't complain that his seats would become dirty, but this was his fault for not being careful on the way in.

"Come on. I will drive you to wherever you go and we can come back to the base in jiffy."  
"Skinny man shouldn't worry about me. I am not going far."  
Sniper refrained himself from sassing back at the 'skinny man' comment and continued to drive along with Heavy. It really wasn't his job to care about whether Heavy will be seen as a mysterious animal on the highway. His eagle sight noticed a weak speckle of light from far side of the road. It could be one of those regular delivery trucks from nearby town.

"What if civilians see you, eh? Pauling and the boss lady won't be impressed."  
"Let leetle people think whatever. Big man don't care."  
Heavy wasn't the only one who wanted to not care about anybody right now. Sniper could really leave this stupid lard head and continue to sneak back in. It certainly wasn't out of compassion or generosity that he felt obliged to help Heavy. It would effect on his professional job if the main fire power of the group was in trouble in some way. His conscience wouldn't allow this, and his mind started to race when the twinkle gradually enlarged into more distinct yellow beam.

"Come ON, wanker. Do you really think I bumped into you on purpose?"  
"I am not hurt now or week ago."  
Sniper banged his head softly on the stirring wheel and glanced at the bruise he painted on the bald man's face. He gritted his teeth and readied to say something that he should have, which his pride didn't let him before.

"Sorry that I pounded on your eye. Now will you please get on the bleedin' van?"  
"…really?"  
"Really, you piker. Hurry up before that truck comes this way."  
Despite of Sniper assuming that Heavy pretended to be stubborn to get a car ride, all Heavy wanted was a sincere apology. The entire body of van shook when a smirking 0.1 tonnes of living creature boarded and stamped its wet bottom on leather seats. The owner of this van shot a disgusted look to his guest even though he knew that it was his fault in the first place.

"Where were you jogging with your jammies on?"  
"To town."  
A shrug was all Heavy could respond to Sniper who wrinkled his nose in disbelief. Who in the right mind would walk for two hours in the freezing morning in such thin clothing? Obviously Russians with unhealthy obsessions toward machine guns are completely bonkers.

"That's quite a long walk, mate."  
"I go and come back. It's no problem."  
Maybe Sniper should have left Heavy on the road. Who knows all that distance may help this stupid fat man to shape up? Thankfully this dull conversation ceased to prolong with welcomed silence. They were busy thinking of their own problems and none of them made a sound till Heavy tapped Sniper by the shoulder and indicated where to stop. It was rather an abrupt break because Sniper didn't imagine that Heavy would have business with a small mail post.

"Do you realise that the company send mails out for us?"  
"It's safer this way."  
The aviators hid Sniper's narrowing eyes in wonder.

"Sounds a bit shonky to me."  
"You are chatty today. Where did you come from?"  
Sniper bit his tongue when the suspicion u-turned back to him. He doubted that Heavy would gossip, but he still wanted to keep his track quiet.

"I've told you. Places."  
"You were at places all weekends?"  
"Just getting few things."  
Heavy tilted his head and locked his gaze upon the man with thick sideburn. He detected a shadow of a vein around Sniper's tightly shut jaw and speculated what this guy was hiding, but considering that Heavy himself was also being discrete, he decided not to push the subject. None of them said anything till they returned back to the world behind the cardboard cactuses and thick curtain.

"Thanks for ride."  
"Mm."  
The van trembled again as Heavy hopped off from the passenger seat. He shared a brief handshake with Sniper and walked towards the base. Out of curiosity, Heavy turned his head around to see the inside of the van when Sniper unlocked its backdoor that led to living area. The darkness hindered his view and he couldn't discover anything out of ordinary other than the miniscule clinking noise of metal or glass.

.

.

.

A crouched figure bathed under the shadow of a tall chimney as it hid from the brush of gleaming silver rays from the moon. His eyes gazed upon fields that bore few forms of vegetation, a few as cactuses and weeds, but the only sight he stalked on was a dimly lit camper van and the face of its owner that he dearly missed. The red beacon of his cigarette butt was the only sign that could blow Spy's cover and it was an intentional mistake. For the first time in a while, Spy was eager to be noticed and if he had to smoke away more than couple boxes of nicotine, he would do so until midnight came. Was Spy desperate? Of course, he was. Tuesday was about to slip out of tonight in less than two hours and he hasn't heard a single thing from Sniper.

Not even the sound of heavy footsteps thumping on the roof could disturb him, probably because he was too tipsy to care. The honey-coloured Cognac swirled as he chugged, but the rhythm was disturbed by a hand grabbing his shoulder from behind. When he lazily turned around, the sharp end of a pencil touched the tip of his nose.

"Are ye ours or the BLU bastards'?"  
"Why don't you poke me and see if I bleed blue?"  
Demo gave Spy a toothy grin and smack on the shoulder in approval as he sat down. Spy coughed slightly at the rough touch but he wasn't in a mood to scowl. This sort of greeting didn't suit a sophisticated man such as Spy, but it was unavoidable if he wished to work in this company.

"I was messin' wit yer lonely drunken heid."  
"Look who is talking, monsieur."  
A low gruff of laughter responded the sarcastic remark. They continued to stare into the sandy plain and let the cool breeze fill the gap between them. Spy tried to pull his attention back to the camper van and ignore the obvious stare from Demo. Unless he had to, Spy really didn't want to talk to his Scottish comrade while under alcoholic influence, but the gaze was already bothering him.

"Can I help you with something?"  
Spy scoffed and didn't move his head away from the van.

"Ye're a weird one."  
"Not as strange as yourself."  
Spy scoffed, gulped down another sip and smirked at Demo while a mild numbness flowed through his body.

"I am talking aboot the fuss ye made a week ago."  
Demo squinted his only eye on the ski masked face that kept ignoring him.

"What of it?"  
Spy felt his heart sinking down to his stomach as Sniper's dumbstruck face whizzed past his memory.

"What did ye mean by 'one week?'"  
"It's a measure of time by which I count and wait."  
The answer obviously didn't satisfy Demo who rolled his eyes and scowled.

"There we go again. Another fecking riddle. Do ye know the shite ye caused? It's Tuesday and I haven'tae drink since last Friday! Engie's been trapping his arse down in the garage. He even took the teleporter with him! And Solly traps me in his room, forcing every English words out of me. I just escaped, ye knoow? Told him that I be in the loo."  
Engineer being recluse struck as unusual to Spy. Given that Engie was from Texas and on friendly terms with Soldier, Spy imagined two Americans would gossip about Spy and preach Scout the danger of having a bisexual man as a colleague. Regarding Engie as a chill intellectual, it was possible that he became sick of Soldier being edgy and loud with unreasonable rage all the time. Spy briefly pitied Demo because it appeared like Engie gave up on the role of taming the hot-headed, middle aged bigot.

"…and the lanky sonny's been away for the whole weekend. He wasn't here last night too! Where could I have gone for a beer run withoout any rides?"  
Spy was well aware of the Australian's absence, especially when yesterday was his turn to cook all the meals. He even made an impressive dinner in hoping to raise the slightest chance of making their relationship work, but Sniper had to skip it.

"Och, the fatty and doc! They are always off with their own shenanigans..."  
Spy figured out the secret between Heavy and Medic's, which sort of explained their irrationally frantic behaviour. It was almost like an unexpected highlight of the night and Spy was thoroughly amused even though he didn't intend to scare the couple. Sudden stings of bitterness warmed the tip of his nose in sorrow as he thought of how the two unlikely human beings successfully became a couple. Why couldn't the same miracle happen to him and Sniper?

"…and Scout! If that airheid keeps on saying 'BIKEsexual is stupid', I am going tae bash his fecking head in, I swear on me mum."  
The grandfather clock started to chime in middle of Demo's complaints. As the eleventh bell finished ringing, Spy collapsed on back and writhed while his hands covered the part of face that balaclava the couldn't. Horrified, Demo swore that he heard a soft whimper.

"Aye, cheer oup. I am sure we can make Scout less of a retaird. The boy's not mocking ye or anything."  
Demo was genuinely worried because he had never seen Spy upset. He tried his hardest to rethink upon what he had said reached out his hand in comfort.

"Mon ami, I had no idea that you were suffering this much. I am almost compelled to care."  
Spy forced out a nonchalant response and Cheshire smile to hide knot in his throat. He couldn't press down the surge of tears when he realised the time was already an hour away from midnight, and the alcohol was weakening the control over his emotions. Unfortunately, the happy façade annoyed Demo who was also stressed as well.

"Ye think this is all a fun game, ye sadistic devil."  
The word 'game' immediately triggered Spy back to week ago when Heavy called him insincere. Spy was aware of his drinking habit where everything switched to a Greek tragedy, which was why he avoided drinking with anybody. However, it was too late to hide it now. Demo was in for a treat of French emotional rollercoaster.

"How dare you. This is no game."  
Spy lept out of the shadow and twirled his right hand. Before Demo could realise what's happening, a balisong sparkled against the moonlight, dashed toward his leg and a loud thwack made his heart run cold. With his eye shut, he braced in for a flood of pain but the knife was only firmly planted on the loose end of his pants.

"YE BLOODY LOON! Pull this out!"  
"Was the big Demoman scared? My apologies. Not!"  
Spy didn't release the grip on his weapon and cackled at Demo who frowned in uneasiness. This erratic up and down mood was creeping Demo out and made him feel rather threatened. He could swear that those wild eyes behind the balaclava were piercing through his eye patch. Demo slowly slid his butt away from Spy and tensed his legs to get up, but Spy leaned in, shoving the hot edge of cigarette inches away from Demo's functioning eye.

"Of course, you don't understand. Do you think you are the only one suffering?"  
"If ye wantae keep yer suit clean, let me go or I will vomit here."  
"You have no idea how this wait is killing me. Tonight is almost over and I've been keeping it cool. I risked losing my respect in this group and what? I still get nothing. Sacre bleu! How much do I need to show him that I am serious? At-il abandonné? Où est-il en venir à? Pourquoi est-ce si important pour moi?" [Has he given up? Where is he driving to? Why does this matter so much to me?]  
The rest of the sentence was incomprehensible when Spy started to rant in his own language. Demo clenched his teeth and curled his fists to strike this crazy guy down. He really could knock Spy out and pull this knife off on his own, but instead of initiating a violence, Demo tried to calm the guy down.

"Yeah, yeah. I knoow. Waiting is hard."  
"You know nothing."  
"Trust me, laddie. Waiting to be adopted again wasn't fulla butterflies and rainboows."  
A relieved sigh and sharp intake of breath followed after Demo's words. Spy loosened his grip, extinguished the fire in his eyes but didn't back his cigarette away. Nothing could be heard from the two men for a while other than splashes of alcohol clapping against a bottle in Spy's other free hand.

"Aye, patience. Whether I got a good or bad end, I never fancied waiting because it stirs me in the wrong way. 'What if they doon't like one-eyed freak?', 'What if I cannae make me bombs at the new house?' and 'When will my real mum and dad find me?' Then I get tired of the voices in me heid. So I tinkered bombs and blew up more things so my people can find me. That was something I could do, ye knoow? Being patient paid off because I didn't bum aroound and whine."  
Spy was grateful of the darkness that the tall chimney provided, because he couldn't hold in the mixture of guilt and shame on his face. Him whining? Possibly, but Spy hated to be judged by someone who didn't know the full story behind his situation.

"This is a different matter."  
"I knoow, but are ye cocksure that ye've done everything ye can do?"  
Air suspended between two men with rigid faces. One was deep in self-reflection and the other feared the harm that a tiny ember can do on his vision. A whiff of strong alcohol jabbed Demo in the nose as Spy carefully recited a word.

"Yes."  
"Then crack a fancy liquor and hawld yer breath."  
Demo pulled the balisong off of his pants and handed it over to his speechless comrade. Spy finally backed off and spat away the burnt out cinder. He didn't expect to be tongue-tied by a man such as whom he regarded as a fool, and it fascinated him that Demo's simple and obvious advice managed to soften out his mood swing.

"Sorry about your trousers, monsieur."  
"If ye let me taste yer fancy drink, I will believe ye."  
"Keep it. I don't want your germs on me."  
"Cheeky bastard."  
Both men grinned as a half-full bottle passed between them. Rustles of bushes and chirps of crickets covered the lack of conversation, but neither of the two tried to talk. The long and comfortable silence was broken by random pebbles tapping on the tips of their shoes and faint whistles of a fancy tune. Demo cocked his head beyond the roof top and found a familiar slender physique standing alone near by the entrance of the base.

"Looks like the kangaroo boyo is finally out of his pouch."  
Demo heard busy footsteps making hasty rhythms on the wooden surface behind him. He watched Spy staggering a little, fixing the wrinkles on his suit and hastily reaching a hand out to Demo.

"I must retreat. The night is getting deeper, no?"  
"Aye, fair enough. Let's drink again at a bar where we get tae check oout lassies AND laddies for ye."  
"Very funny."  
Spy curtly smiled as they shook their hands. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of those annoying jokes, but he could tolerate it for now. There was more important matter to attend and his wait was about to be paid back.

Having no one to talk to, Demo eased the tensions in his muscles and laid down to enjoy the tranquillity. The night sky was exceptionally clear as any other night after heavy rain would seem to be. Stars were spread across the sky like grains of sand, as if each was the light of a person in the complete emptiness. Demo honestly thought that he wouldn't be hearing all these dramatic problems at such a place full of mercenaries who killed for money. However, no matter where Demo drank and lived, he just couldn't escape from this vast galaxy of emotions where each people had their own stories to tell. Teufort was no exception but Demo wasn't bothered by all these drunken confessions; in fact, he enjoyed listening them. Ever since he lost an eye which made him look like a bloodthirsty pirate, people hardly opened their mind to him.

"TAVISH! YOU BETTER BE CONSTIPATED TO TAKE THIS LONG!"  
"FECK OFF, JANE. I'VE GOT BOOZE AND I DESERVE MY HAPPY HOUR."  
At this point, Demo was extremely content of his life and not even Soldier's agitating yells could ruin it for him. The thundering stomps that escalated their way up on the roof didn't faze him either. Soldier may come up and drag him back down to the pools of scrunched up papers, but having a brute as a friend was better than being shunned.

"GET DOWN OR YOUR SWORD GETS IT."  
Demo was about to disregard the idle threat, then wondered whether he would ignore his friend over the first alcohol that he will ever taste in few days. Considering that his drinking habit derived from his loneliness, it seemed like a brainless dilemma to even ponder upon.

"FINE, YE CHILD. LEAVE EYELANDER ALOONE."  
He may regret this decision in ten minutes, or the next day, even in a month because the Cognac smelt like the aroma of heaven, but not right now. Something much more full and entertaining was waiting for him, and he rather wanted to hear out these men in sober spirit.

 

[Fear not, there will be epilogues for each of the couples ;)]


	10. Epilogue 1 Spiper

[Proofread and edit work goes to inspectorpineapple]

As a professional in espionage, there were very few incidents that pounded Spy's heart with absolute anxiety, and only one of them demanded him to appear sober in five minutes. This, however, could be the most gut-wrenching event that he may come across in his life and he preferred be look and smell clean. Time was chasing him and Sniper was already waiting outside. Spy shoved necessities into a locked suitcase from his room and ran through the corridor. As he hopped down from the rooftop, he bumped into a stocky figure in middle of the corridor.

"Excusez-moi."  
"Watch it, slime ball. TAVISH! YOU BETTER BE CONSTIPATED TO TAKE THIS LONG!"  
"FECK OFF, JANE. I'VE GOT BOOZE AND I DESERVE ME HAPPY HOUR."  
He was glad that Soldier didn't grab him by the collar. The aggressive man rushed away from the toilet, stomped to the stairs that led to the rooftop and busily growled at Demo. The path was thankfully empty now, so not a soul saw Spy in his shamelessly riled up state. To ensure zero interruption, Spy locked himself in the toilet and began to execute a simple and speedy miracle. It involved regurgitation, the swiftest of teeth brushing, slapping some cold water on the face and performing dress change magic. Just as he finished cleaning up the aftermath of his bodily fluid, couple of knocks startled him.

"Hey, will you hurry- OW my nose…"  
"Mmmmoa!"  
The door slammed open against Scout's face, causing him to blindly fall on Pyro. Ignoring the muffled yelling from the above, Spy slid down the stairs and spat out the mini-bottle of concentrate caffeine extract. The whole process seemed near-perfect and he felt quite confident till he reached the end of the stairs. A quick check up was always necessary, and this time he aimed to not look like an intoxicated fool who had been crying with desperation half an hour ago. Suit? Seamless. Breathe? Could do better than toothpaste-mint, but better than stomach acid and nicotine. Cognition? Although vomiting and caffeine helped to sharpen his senses, he was slightly hazy from drinking more than he could handle. Spy was still unsure whether he was ready, but he was certainly through with waiting. It was time to face the anticipation and accept the outcome, best or worst. He opened the door and bit his cheeks to mask his agitation. Even though there were was hardly any light other than from the moon provided, the back of slim silhouette stood out amongst the lifeless forms of the desert night.

"Evening, monsieur."  
"…took your time."  
Sniper turned around and blurted out a sass, but his tongue stiffened when they made an eye-contact. Despite of the fact that Sniper replayed all the possible scenario of this encounter thousand times, this was nerve-wrecking.

"Was that you who threw those pebbles?"  
"Don't know what you are talking about, mate. I just aimed at some suspicious embers."  
Spy initiated the conversation to loosen up the tight atmosphere between them, and smirked at the given reply.

"You look nice."  
It was out of his style to babble compliments, but Sniper couldn't lie. He was more than appreciative of the man in front of him.

"As always."  
Spy brushed off the flattery and walked past Sniper to hide the rush of blood on his face. He blamed the Cognac to let such emotion slip. It would be embarrassing to lose his cool before he heard the answer that he had been waiting the whole week for. Thankfully, the night was colder than the usual on his face.

"Bit chilly nowadays."  
"Yes, summer is almost over."  
Sniper caught up with Spy who were aimlessly wondering forward. While he knew the exact words that had to be said, it was extremely difficult for an outback man to break the tension and at least do something.

"Is that 'all' you have to say?"  
Judging by the tiny sting on Spy's tone, Sniper realised he was on the verge of pressing the wrong button. Surge of worries jolted his reflection, which caused him to hold the hand that was usually covered in leather glove.

"I have been thinking about it."  
"Thinking about what? You need to be more specific."  
Spy tried to wriggle his hand out of the larger palm, but Sniper held on tighter out of anxiety. His heart raced and reminded himself not to mess this opportunity because of his lousy conversation skills.

"I was a fucking idiot to even doubt about what we have here. That kiss we had at my van wasn't a mistake – I just wished that I wasn't drunk for that. I am sorry that I made you come out of the closet and it would be a shame if your profession goes to shambles because of it. It was pathetic of me to say that you are not being genuine while I wasn't even sure of myself."  
The words scattered out and Sniper was breathless. He rarely rambled this much in his life and hoped his effort wasn't wasted because of how clumsily he spat everything out. Noticing that Spy's hand stopped trying to escape, Sniper carefully closed the distance between them and looked into the pair of eyes that were still focused somewhere far.

"It didn't matter whether we are a half-poofter or not. All that matter is the fact that we have something important between us. I don't think I have the balls to fess up like you did, but I want you to have this."  
Spy kept on gazing on aimless darkness till he felt a cold alloy placed on his trapped fingers. It was a balisong no bigger than half of his hand, but it was weighted like a useable weapon.

"Do you realise that I have my own collections of these?"  
"Open it up."  
Without any difficulty, Spy nimbly spread the handles to reveal the expected smooth blade. This, however, appeared jagged on one edge. It almost looked like a…

"It's a key to my van. So you can come into my house without breaking in."  
Considering Sniper as a man of privacy and solitude, this was an unexpected gift.

"I'm not asking you to live with me. You probably have a fancy place to be luxurious and whatever. It's just an open invitation to use my space when you need a break or… you know, a good time of any sort."  
Perhaps a reckless decision in the long term, but it held a very strong sentimental value in this moment. Spy didn't imagine himself to provide both of them a solid place to live, possibly because to the nature of himself or his occupation. Sniper offered a stability which was something that Spy wasn't confident to do, so it may count as a fair score between them.

"Was it intentional to have the other side of this to be sharp?"  
"Thought it should be useful as well."  
It was no doubt that the sharpness will gradually weather out depends on how frequently Spy uses this key. Impractical, but touching.

"I am quite impressed."  
"You are more than welcome to visit my van now."  
Spy checked his watch which nearly hit one and then turned his head to lock their eyes. He could see Sniper crossing his arms and flashing a smug smile. No matter how adorable this lanky man appeared, Spy felt like he should be a responsible mercenary and savour the pleasures for the future. He leaned in, gave Sniper a small peck on the lips and stepped back.

"I would love to, but we do have work tomorrow."  
"Not even for a moment?"  
When he saw dissatisfied frown on Sniper's face, it was already hard to reject the second offer. He couldn't pull away the long arms reaching out for a hug.

"Bought some wine too..."  
Spy had enough to drink for tonight and readied to say a well-argued reason. That was until he felt a finger running through his hair, which was a sensation that he nearly forgot ever since he started to wear a balaclava. Obviously this time, he realised that he wasn't wearing any. It was hard to believe that he made such silly mistake. A sense of panic arose as he wondered where he could have dropped it. Was it resting somewhere on the staircase? Or the toilet? He almost hoped it to be flushed away by accident. If anybody, especially Scout picked it up, their taunt would be the bane of his pride.

"…but yeah, you are right. We better sleep. Just drop by later, eh?"  
Sniper planted a little kiss on the bare forehead and buried his nose on the greying hair that smelt of cigarette and soap. It was such a shame to miss the rare opportunity to indulge that handsome face that Spy hid from everybody, but Sniper persuaded that he was privileged to see such sight. He was about to release his arms till his lover dug deeper into his embrace.

"Suppose it would be impolite to pass on wine. It better be top quality."  
If Spy was to get back into his attic-room, there were some risks of exposing his face to his teammates. Also, Sniper being respectful was sort of a cherry on top of this wonderful night. Maybe all his panic were just a petty excuse, but there was no way that Spy could let down the brightest smile that he has seen from the ever-stoic Sniper.

"You bet."  
They broke the hug apart and walked toward to the van as they bantered how Sniper's outback knowledge couldn't have possibly gotten at least three-starred wine. Their giddy mood blinded themselves from a dark figure watching them from distance. Pyro had been waiting for them to finish talking, but the view of two men kissing and being affectionate reminded of the days when Engie asked him to not interrupt the cuddle session with Soldier. Oh well. He could give the balaclava back to Spy sometime later.


End file.
